


The Cost of the Fight

by CathyFowl



Series: Thedosian Works In Progress [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And I shouldn't talk in tags, Angst, Asshole Inquisitor, Canon-Typical Violence, Deal With the Devil, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evolving Tags, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I hope the comfort will come soon, I should've written an outline, Modern Girl in Thedas, Spoilers, how do commas work, i don't know what happened, sorry - Freeform, sort of, this got darker than I thought, well he's turning into one anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathyFowl/pseuds/CathyFowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the opportunity presents itself, an avid fangirl of Dragon Age: Inquisition strikes a deal with Flemeth. She'll work to protect the people of the Inquisition and those innocent lives that get caught in the fight. In return, she'll have the means to save a certain man.<br/>We all know that deals with the devil never turn out how we expect them, and sometimes the cost is too high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Your Heart Shall Burn

I can already see the army advancing on Haven when I tumble onto the snow.

I don't have time to adapt to the new surroundings. I don't have time to let myself come to terms with my wish having been granted, that I'm _really_ here, in Haven. In Thedas. I can only run and try to do what I was sent to do: save as many lives as possible. Save all the lives.

I can see Dorian, fighting a group of Venatori, as I round a corner. It's surprisingly easy to tell apart the Venatori and the Rebel mages. It's not just the different clothes either. The Rebels are desperate and forced into fighting, and very rare to come across. There're at least half a dozen Venatori for each Rebel.

I take in the progress of the army, as I watch Dorian dispatch the last Venatori grunt in front of the gates of Haven. I have as long as I close in from the side. I know every one of the little group at the gate, yet they all look different.

_Because now they're all real._

The Inquisitor, (no, just Herald for now,) is ready to head to the trebuchets when Cullen spots me. But I'm already dropping to my knees, both palms slamming onto the frozen ground as I speed through an incantation, that has nothing to do with anything, it just helps me concentrate and let the _gift_ I received work its magic through me.

Before Cullen can reach me with his sword drawn, before the Herald can throw his dagger, before Dorian has the time to cast, before Varric can fire Bianca, my spell goes off with a booming absence of sound. Air is misplaced then returned, a faintly shimmering blue shroud blooms over the sky above Haven and the advancing army, and then falls to settle over the people.

They all gasp as the protection settles over them, into them, under their skin. Dorian is casting Dispel from reflex but, of course, it does nothing.

I feel faint, and already, as the advance of Corypheus' army clashes with the Inquisition soldiers, I feel faintly, as if from a great distance, the pain and hurt and mortal wounds that are not dispelled exactly, but transferred to me and locked away.

I laugh, giddy with triumph, even as Cullen levels his sword at my throat.

"What have you done?!?" He roars, and the " _mage_ " is only barely absent from the end of his sentence.

"I've just saved your men," I say grinning, my voice roughened from the strain of the spell and my journey here. "I've saved them all!" I cry and laugh and laugh and laugh.

The Herald orders me to the Chantry. Dorian volunteers to take me, but they don't trust him yet, so it's Cullen who grabs me by the arm and hauls me toward the stone building as I try to stop my hysterical cackling.

I'm deposited inside and Leliana stays with me, watching me, and probably making all kinds of assessments about me, yet failing to grasp to most important fact: that I'm not from Thedas.

The trebuchets go off. The avalanche claims many of the Venatori but none of the Rebel mages. No innocent shall die today. Then the dragon comes and I start giggling again as Haven burns. "Archy", the not-an-actual-Archdemon, Coryphifish's pet dragon wreaks havoc, yet I'm giddy with delight as I feel the tugs on the spell, feel it hold, feel it protect the lives that would otherwise be lost.

There's a lot more people retreating to the Chantry than there should've been. And I watch as Dorian helps the wounded Chancellor Roderick inside. Except the cleric is far from dying, his wound is only temporary, the spell protect him just as it protects everyone else. The Herald and his team stumble inside on their heels and Cullen pushes the heavy doors shut.

The ensuing arguments are not new. Not for me. I keep cackling over the fact that they still haven't noticed the distinct lack of casualties. Then I realize that the most badly hurt ones would be called back by the spell later. That they might seem dead now, as they lie unconscious.

They will be fine though. I can tell. I feel each of their heartbeats as my own.

Roderick tells about the secret passageway; the Inquisitor (sorry, _Herald_ ) heads out to face Corypheus and I can feel the spell let him go. He's on his own now. His destiny matters for the world, he has to do this alone.

Leliana guides me by the arm, having tied my wrists behind my back, she hauls me up and we make our way through the passages. Before I lose focus of my surroundings, I notice that her grip is harder than Cullen's was.

The further we get from Haven, the less I can feel of my own surroundings. The spell is ready to unravel, but I have to keep it up, just a little bit longer, just until the last avalanche. Just until all have received all the wounds they would.

We get above the treeline and lady Vivienne sends up a flare of magic to signal the Herald. It's not even a minute later that the mountain rumbles under the force of the shot from the trebuchet and the snow comes down to bury it all.

As my senses sharpen to painful clarity, I stare at the retreating speck that is Corypheus and his dragon. Then my spell buckles and there's a soft gasp from everyone as the shroud of protection folds back to my body. Leliana lets me go as if I turned into naked flames and as the faint glow of the spell settles back on me, I open my mouth on a scream of pain.

It never gets out. I'm unconscious before my body hits the snowy ground.

 


	2. Fallout

It hurts. Everything hurts. I can't move. Even breathing hurts. I do as little of it as possible.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I hear Cassandra, of all people, shout from my right.

"It is nothing that I have ever encountered before in my journeys or in the Fade," Solas says from my left. "The closest thing I've ever seen to it, is a memory in the Fade. A protection spell that was meant to transfer the damage done to one person to the caster." He explains.

As my alertness slowly returns, I can feel his fingers on my wrist, keeping track of my pulse. There's a pulse of warmth, (healing magic I'm guessing,) occasionally. He's trying to help me mitigate the backlash of the spell. How nice of the old wolf.

"So you're telling me that she tried, _and succeeded in_ , protecting everybody in Haven, by herself, with a spell that was designed to protect only one person?!?!" Cassandra is furious and disbelieving and I don't even care that she's so angry, because, of her ranting, the only words that stuck with me now are the _'succeeded in protecting everybody'_.

I try to draw a deeper breath to try to speak, and end up shuddering as the air burns and scrapes. The shudder hurts my muscles. The warm blanket over my body feels like sandpaper over my skin. I force my eyes open and the dim light of a lantern in the night is so bright it feels like looking into the sun from up close.

Everything hurts and I barely manage to cling to my hard earned consciousness.

Cassandra and Solas fall silent around me.

I try to speak again, swallowing the air, like acid, and forcing my lips to move.

"The Herald?" my voice is a wheezy whisper, more of a notion of meaning than actual sound. Cassandra makes a weird, choking sound, while Solas sends another wave of warmth and comfort through my battered body with his healing magic.

"He is yet to return," he says, his voice dark and heavy with resignation, and I remember that he learns to view us as people, and that he is capable of remorse, and that he probably blames himself right now.

I hear a heavy canvas lift and fall. Cassandra's steps are loud even through the tent walls. She cannot face the fact that the Herald is the only one who have not returned. The only one,  who's probably dead.

"Elf...-root...please..." I choke out and start coughing only to stop just as suddenly, holding my breath to ease the urge, because coughing hurts worse than breathing, worse than speaking.

I feel Solas' hand under my head, lifting just enough so when the cool glass is pressed against my lips, I can drink without inhaling the potion. Not that it would make much of a difference. I'm not even sure why I asked for it. Would it work on me?

It does. The sharp pain eases out of my body more and more with each sip. By the time I have emptied half the bottle, I'm sitting of my own volition, holding the bottle myself and downing the rest of the bitter-green liquid like it is water after a trek through the dessert.

"Fuck, yeah," I swear joyously and hand the empty bottle back to Solas grinning.

I take my first good look at him. Up this close, even his disapproving scowl is handsome. Damn, I never realised that the Egg could look this good. Tired and dejected is a surprisingly good look on him.

"Wow, you're a pretty one," I drawl. I'm still not _quite_ back to normal, but I'm getting there. I take a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh, glad that it no longer really hurts. There's only a full body soreness left, like after a really good aerobics class. I rejoice at discovering new muscles that can hurt and while it's painful to move, it's nowhere the sheer agony of feeling the mortal and severe wounds of hundreds of people at once.

I swing my legs off the cot and before Solas can react, I'm halfway to the tent flap.

"Wait," he says, grabbing my arm. What is it with Thedosians and arm-grabbing anyway? "You shouldn't be up yet. You almost died. You need rest."

"Yeah," I say, jerking my arm free. "’ _Almost’_ being the operative word. I've gotta go. I wanna check on things. This was the first time I pulled that spell. There might be unintentional side-effects," I say and walk out on a stunned Solas.

 

The worst side effect is that Roderick is alive and bitching. Well, he is bitching less, I guess. But he's bitching at Dorian, which I'm not happy about, a bit. When he sees me and his eyes go wide, I know that he heard about my little stunt.

"Ah, the woman of the hour!" Dorian greets me and I hold up a finger before he can launch into his theatrics. I love him dearly, but now is so not the time.

"When did we make camp and when did the snow storm stop?" I ask.

Dorian blinks once but switches gears and answers me with only a little flair.

"We made camp about two hours ago, my dear," he says. "And the storm had stopped just an hour before that. Why, might I ask, do you want to know this?"

But I'm already off, orienting myself down slope in the middle of the camp and grabbing a stunned Cassandra on the way out.

We find Cullen, who's pacing just outside camp. He spots the Herald and Cassandra jerks her hand from me as they both run to his aid. I smile and relax. I did it. Now if I can do it, what?, about three or four more times?...

I barely stumble back into the tent where I woke up, before the healing potion's boost wears of and I collapse into a startled Solas' arms.

"Hims back..." I manage to slur before I'm out.

 


	3. Welcome to the Inquisition

We make it to Skyhold before the first group of survivors catches up with us. And they keep arriving. Cullen is out of his mind as he keeps crossing out names from the lost or dead lists that have been already much shorter than they were meant to be. The Herald is named Inquisitor and they try to announce me as something too, but I hole up in the spider-webbed library, and there are more important things to take care of than hunting for the weird girl who saved a bunch of people.

Cole finds me first.

"You hide in the quiet. Hidden, forgotten, not belonging, only on borrowed time. ‘I just need to make it long enough, far enough. For _him_.’"

"Holy Shi-eetmusic! Cole! You know I hate it when you do that!" I almost jump out of my skin. I have found a book that seems to have been written in some weird alphabet that looks suspiciously like Japananese Hiragana of all things, and I was deciphering it, when he suddenly spoke from his perch right next to me.

"Sorry," he says and I have to tamp down the urge to hug him. Again. "You can hug me if you want," he says and I chuckle.

"It's okay. I probably shouldn't though. So what brings you here?"

"They're looking for you," he says.

"I know that. And I don't wish to be found. Yet," I say. "Is there anything special going on?"

"Max says that he owes you."

"Max? Oh, so his name is Max. That's Maxwell Trevelyan, right?"

"You didn't know," Cole says. "But you helped him."

"Nah, he'd done all that on his own. He had to. He needs to be strong," I say and then think about the theory that the Inquisitor was made strong enough to defeat Coryphifish in the end by the hard decisions and heavy loses he'd faced. "I wonder if..."

"’Am I truly helping? I want, I need to save them, but what if my wish only hurts and cripples. There's more in a future I cannot see. I just want to help. I can't sit by idle.’  You don't need to," Cole says, reading my thoughts better than I ever could.

"Thank you, Cole," I say and this time I do hug him, however briefly. And then I'm off to find the War Room.

 

***

 

They're all there.

Well, by "they" I mean sans Cassandra because Skyhold War Room, duh. But still, it's kinda nice to find them all together, conferring, making plans, dealing with the shit that comes with running such a huge organization.

Skyhold is all fixed up by now. The kitchens are running, the infirmary is noticeably empty, the walls are patched up and the mounts are taken care of. Everybody's busy, but it's the routine busyness of a well-oiled machine and not the crazed anthill of the "thank the Maker we survived, now we have to make this pile of rock into a liveable castle" kind of busyness.

After I knock and am bid to enter, they all stare at me. They really haven't expected that I would turn up.

"Hello. I just wanted to ask when are we going to Crestwood and if I could please come along to the Winter Palace," I say blank-faced and can barely hold back my giggles at their flabbergasted stares.

Then Leliana is on me, slamming me against the wall, one of her daggers at my throat and it’s not so funny anymore. I was practically invincible while the Protection spell lasted. Now? Not so much.

I whimper and try really hard not to flinch or move any muscle at all.

"Who are you?" Leliana growls in my face and I have a distinct feeling, I would've preferred Cassandra flipping out on me.

"I'm," I croak and try to swallow to ease the dryness of my throat, but the motion nudges the dagger and the blade is sharp enough to draw blood from that slightest of touch. I freeze and keen. I've got things to do! I can't just die here because Leliana is a distrustful hardened Spymaster, who's all to ready to kill.

"Let her go, Leliana," I hear the only unfamiliar voice say and Leliana pushes forward an inch before backing off and letting me go.

I slide down the wall and land on my ass. I touch one hand gingerly to my throat and make more distressed sounds when my fingers come away bloody. I feel the delayed reaction of my body as I start to shiver and I try to curl into a small ball mumbling to myself the words I used for the spell in Haven. They are words of strength and protection, and I try to convince myself that they would work even without magic.

A gentle hand rakes calloused fingers through my hair and I flinch at first before realizing that Leliana wears gloves and Cullen almost never takes his gauntlets off and while Josie's hands are usually bare, she's also too lady-like to have callouses that catch on the messy strands of my hair.

I raise my head hesitantly and find my gaze capture by a pair of deep blue eyes. Ah, the Inquisitor.

"Hey," he says gently. He's older than I thought, although I've always been terrible at telling people's ages, but this close up, he falls squarely in the "definitely older than me" category, which also places him in his mid-to-late thirties. I thought he would be in his mid-twenties, like me. Then again, I thought _he_ was going to be a _she_.

"H-hey..." I whisper back. The small cut on the skin of my neck feel like a papercut. It's itchy and achy and I just want to leave and find Adan, or maybe even Solas, for some healing and some better company.

"Are you all right?" He asks and when I reply with a tiny nod, he continues. "I am Maxwell Trevelyan, but you can call me Max. What's your name?"

"I'm..." I choke on my own name and break down in a coughing fit. What the _fuck_? Did that spell take my name too? Oh for the love of... "That bitch..." I croak and I'm angry enough that I forget to be afraid.

I shoot to my feet and Leliana tenses, but the Inquisitor, Max, doesn't back away. Instead he surreptitiously keeps himself between her and me. I try mouthing my own name, but no sound ever leaves my throat. I swear in at least three Thedosian languages that are not Common and end with.

"You can call me Elphie. Short for Elpheba," I nod. Yeah, that'll do. And it's a lucky enough name to bring the right power at the right time if I concentrate hard enough.

" _Elfy_...?" Max repeats doubtfully.

"Yeah, E-L-P-H-I-E. No, it's not my real name, but apparently that BITCH, who gave me the power to pull off the Protection spell, kept my name it exchange," I shrugged. "It's not like it's not totally worth it."

Max stares at me in disbelief before chuckling.

"Well, _Elphie_ , welcome to the Inquisition."

"You must be joking, Inquisitor!" Leliana says and I have to give it to her, she's persistent. Although, Inky does tend to bring home the weirdest strays...

"Leliana, what's wrong with you?!?" I turn on her. "I just want to help..."

"You wield magic that could never be achieved without a demons help. What guaranties that you're not possessed or a blood mage?" She accuses and I feel my jaw drop before I break down laughing.

I mean, she not _wrong_ exactly. But the truth is a bit more unbelievable than that.

"I'm not a blood mage or an abomination," I say wiping away tears and trying to calm my breathing. "You can check me over if you wish. You can even Smite me if you want. Seeing _I'm not even a mage_." That takes all of them by surprise.

"But at the gates at Haven..." Cullen speaks up for the first time. I just shrug.

"I have that one spell. It has this one purpose, to protect the people of the Inquisition and the Innocents caught in the middle of the mess that a couple of individuals created. I traded a lot for it, true, but it's still only that," I shrug again. "I can't even fight otherwise. Or protect myself, unless the spell is working."

There's a long silence then. I'm getting nervous.

"Cullen," the Inquisitor says then, in a cold, hard voice I haven't heard from him yet. And that is all the warning I get before Cullen unleashes a full-powered Holy Smite on me.

It pushes me against the wall with such force that the air gets knocked out of me. It doesn't exactly hurt. I can tell it was channelled toward the magical in me but it still smarts. Before I can draw enough breath to swear at them, Cullen follows up with a powerful Dispel too. It's like a cold shower and I shiver violently.

"Woah, that feels like somebody walking on your grave," I say then frown. "Wait, you burn your dead, not bury them. Never mind then. It just feels creepy."

It takes only a long moment before Max is back at my side cradling the back of my head, checking for injuries. Cullen hovers too, muttering apologies. Leliana gives up and leaves.

"I'm fine," I wave off the Inquisitor and duck out from his reach. "I take it there are no more headaches then, Commander," I address Cullen with a grin.

He visibly pales and stutters. I wink and he goes from white as a sheet to red as a tomato faster than you could say _‘phylactery’_.

"Keep to it, Commander. Just keep to it," I say and while Inky turns to question his Commander, I duck out of the War Room.

 


	4. Making Friends

I'm relieved to find that Leliana has really left and isn't just standing in ambush. Josie catches up with me and manages to scare the living daylight out of me. I'm more frazzled than I thought and my nerves are about to give out. It's easy to forget how deadly the Inquisitor's company is (even sweetest Josie), when you're not the one facing them.

"Mistress Elpheba," she says and I cringe a bit. Maybe I should've chosen a different name. If everyone is going to call me that, I might have to hide away in the Dusty Library again.

As it turns out, I'll have my own room to hide in. Josie talks to me in her diplomat voice until she realizes that I'm more like the Inner Circle and less like the annoying, but necessary nobles milling about. I might not be skilled in fighting but I'm not here to sit pretty.

I'm assigned a room and told about the daily life of Skyhold. Josie is horrified when she learns about my previous sleeping arrangement of ‘dusty floor of abandoned room’, and my previous way of feeding myself, ducking into the kitchen and stealing a bun or some apples here and there. I chuckle a little, and after I assure her that I'll be able to find my room, I leave to hunt down Solas.

 

It is Varric, however, whom I run into first. He's at his usual spot near the fireplace in the main hall. I'm still gaping at the mostly completed renovation and the mounted mosaic pieces on the wall, (those are real too? Max actually gathers them?), when he calls out to me.

"Hey, Shield Girl, good to see you're still around," he says with a wide grin that eases into a warm smile as I approach.

"Hey, Varric. Not going to point Bianca at me anymore?" I wiggle my eyebrows. He laughs, but the sound is a bit strained. I know it must be unnerving when people you've barely met, and were definitely not introduced to, call you by name. "Has Hawke arrived yet? When are we leaving for Crestwood. I tried to ask the Inquisitor but they are still a bit jumpy about me..." I trail off. I haven't realized I was rubbing at my neck. From the stare I get from Varric, I must've reopened the tiny cut. Yep, my fingers come away bloody again. And Josie had helped me clean up with her pretty, embroidered handkerchief too.

"Ah, fuck, sorry," I mumble and start digging around my pocket for the hanky.

"Shield Girl, you okay?" Varric is genuinely worried, which is really sweet. It also took his attention from the fact that I know about the trip planned for Crestwood. Or maybe it's not such a big secret.

"I'm fine... just got too closely acquainted with one of the Nightingale's daggers. She's pissed at me coz I'm suspicious. Which I am, I guess, but really... she used to be much more reasonable."

"You know Sister Leliana?"

"Yes and no," I answer, but fail to elaborate. In time I plan to talk to all of the Inner Circle. For now I'm happy with having Max on my side and Cole's company is enough to not feel lonely. "But, I'd better be going. I was headed to Solas, to nag him to fix me up. See ya, Varric."

I turn and head for the door leading to the rotunda. Then stop and turn back.

"Oh, I almost forgot. If I got one of your books, would you sign it for me?" I ask. Varric chuckles.

"Of course, Shield Girl."

"Thanks. That's a weird nickname though. I go by Elphie these days. Short for Elpheba," I say then wave. "See ya." And I'm through the door, only Varric’s full belly laughter following me.

 

***

 

I don't find out the source of the merriment until after I nag Solas into agreeing to fix my neck.

I sit on the edge of his desk, feet dangling, and I stare up at the library above us as he gently cleans the skin around the wound, and dabs some sort of elfroot ointment over the cut.

"So," he says as he works. "How does a Dalish elf come by such powers and decides to use it to support an organization that Heralds the Maker?"

"Dalish elf?" I ask, confused.

"Are you not from one of the clans? You wear Mythal’s vallaslin after all. Have you left your clan to live in the city?" Solas is nonchalant. He's wearing his 'polite mask' and doing the twenty questions without letting you know he's doing it. Except I do know. But that throws me for a spin.

"Dalish... elf..." I repeat again, stunned, and slowly raise my hands to my ears. They are shaking and my fingers curl around pointed ends. "HOLY FUDGESTICKS!!!!" I cry out in shock and jump off of the desk, turning around and around, looking for a mirror.

"You did not know." Solas says it as a statement, but it's more like a rhetorical question.

"I made a deal with Ashabellanar. It's not like she told me she would make me an elf, and make me bear her slave makings. That _bitch!!!_ " I'm getting angry now. First my name, then my nature? What the actual fuck, Flemythal? What the actual FUCK?!?

"Dorian!" I shout up, as my gaze stumbles upon the railing of the library on the floor above. "Dorian!! Do you have a mirror with you up there?"

There is grumbling and the sound of what I imagine a pile of books toppling over before Dorian appears at the railing and leans over.

"Ah, if it isn't the strange little elf with the power to save us all..." He is _not_ amused.

"Fuck that," I shout back and he lists one perfect eyebrow and his moustache twitches in barely held back amusement. "D'ya have a mirror or no? Beware; if you don't, I'll come up there anyway."

He huffs and disappears back into his alcove.

"Fucking Altus," I grumble and Solas watches me with growing unease in his eyes.

"Da'len, perhaps it'd be better to..." He starts but I cut him off.

"I'm not your dalen. I'm not of the blood, so don't call me that, old wolf." And I'm off to climbing the stairs and pre-emptively cursing at Dorian in Tevene.

 

We end up half drunk and best mates by the time I come to terms with _"yes, I'm actually an elf"_ and _"yes, I do have Mythal's fanciest vallaslin scrawled all over my face"_. It looks good, though, but still, it's a slave marking just as surely as Fenris' lyrium tattoos. And it doesn't even do any cool shit like his. As far as I know.

The rotunda empties out by the time Dorian and I relocate to the tavern. I feel a pang of guilt for baiting Solas with calling him "old wolf" and not explaining anything. But he didn't stay so... Whatever.

Dorian and I get introduced to the Chargers, who take to me more than to Dorian. At least at first. Then his superior drinking ability earns him some respect and it’s all good from there.

I watch, from a slightly tipsy and very embarrassed Krem's lap, as The Iron Bull flirts and Dorian tries and fails to convincingly brush him off. It's so sweet, I can feel my teeth aching. Until I break down in tears, and swear in three languages again, which is understood by at least one person each in this crowd.

"Hey, what wrong?" Krem asks and I snuggle closer for a moment before grabbing hold of his face and staring into his eyes.

"Promise me not to die!" I say.

"Wha-what?"

"Promise me! Not to die. Or 't least that you won't go to Storm Coast without moi!" I'm slurring the words a little and my language skills are deteriorating, but I'm dead serious. "Promise meh~!!!"

He nods vehemently.

"I promise, it's okay, I promise."

"Good." I declare and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. "This wretched place is so empty without you..." And with a sigh I disentangle myself and head upstairs to Cole, leaving behind a group of mostly drunken Chargers shocked into silence.

 


	5. Around Skyhold

I have the worst headache the next day. I've never really been a drinker and having a tiny elf body doesn't help at all. The fact that I wake up in Bull's bed, with him still in it, just makes the morning even more uncomfortable.

"Why am I in your bed?" I ask.

"Hey, you're awake. I thought you might not regain consciousness until noon."

He's offly chirpy for someone, who has emptied at least a whole cask by himself last night. I glare at him with all the intimidation power of a tiny kitten.

"So, why am I in your bed? With you in it," I ask again.

"I found you curled up in the corner on the upper floor of the tavern, when I headed to bed," he explains. "I asked you where your room was, and you said you didn't remember, so I brought you to mine. When I tried to sleep on the floor, you got pissed, even more than you are now, and demanded I get my, and I quote, "fine qunari ass over here". So, that's why."

I stare at him for a bit longer, then finally shrug.

"Sounds legit," I say and roll over to my back to stretch. My head is pounding. I should visit Solas again... Or maybe I should just go to Adan and leave the grumpy Egg alone for a day. I sigh and flop over to climb on top of Bull's torso.

He's so big. I lazily measure my limbs to his. I look tiny in comparison. I mean, to myself I look the same as I would as a human. But I'm obviously smaller now. Though not spindlier. I'm still all hips and thighs. I scoot up his body until our eyes are level, then wiggle my toes against his legs. I barely reach his knees.

"It's so weird that you're so big and I'm so small. You can't imagine how weird it is for me," I tell him while I play my fingers over one of his horns. It's definitely made of keratin. It feels like rough nails would, except the few patches that are still buffed. "Note to self: ask a Tal-Vashoth or Vashoth for horn balm. Yours are in a terrible condition."

He'd been quietly laughing at my size difference assessment before, the grumbling sounds more like halfway between a purr and a growl, jostling me on top of him. But as soon as I casually mention the (Tal-)Vashoth, he tenses up. It's only a fraction of a second, an aborted reaction he corrects immediately, but by the time he relaxes again, I already felt it.

"Don't go messing with the dangerous people, Elphie," he says, his voice joking, but his eyes serious.

I think it's the way he says my adopted nickname. It warms me all over and I kiss his forehead before I haul myself off of him.

"Dontcha worry about me, Bull. As long as I keep being at the right place at the right time, things should be fine. And in the meanwhile, I plan on helping around here as much as humanly possible."

Bull gives me a weird look with raised eyebrows, but I already have my shirt back on and I'm out the door before he could say anything.

 

***

 

I keep to my word and spend the next several weeks busying myself around Skyhold.

I find my room and take over properly. It's one of the small rooms above the gardens. There are a handful of more rooms there than you see in the game and both Dorian and Solas live only a few doors down from me. It takes me a week to realize that so does Lady Viv and Varric.

Vivienne does not like me calling her "Lady Viv".

She also doesn't like me in general. I’ve tried to tell her about Bastien, and his ultimate fate, and how she should be by his side... And she just tried to threaten me in her perfectly socially acceptable way.

I’ve shrugged and told her I'm sorry for her loss and left.

I tend to leave conversations a lot.

I like to talk, and I like to explain but I never know what I’m allowed to say and to whom.

And I still seem to know Skyhold better than anyone, so I can sneak around and just race through the castle pretty easily.

I’ve checked on Cullen often, finally catching him alone and talking to him about the lyrium. I was right. His withdrawal symptoms all but vanished since Haven. I tell him it was probably the Protection spell, and please be strong even if they were to return, and don't take lyrium.

"I've seen what would happen if you did. It's not..." I choke on the memory and shiver as suddenly my blood seems to turn to ice. "It's not something I want to see come true."

Cullen regards me warily.

"You say you are not a mage, yet you obviously have the abilities of a seer. Or something like Cole's..."

"Cole is a spirit of the Fade," I say only a bit dryly. "While I'm flattered to be likened to a spirit of Compassion, I am very much of the waking world." If not of _this_ waking world... I add in my head.

"I did not mean to..."

"Yeah, I know. I'd better go. The Inquisitor's leaving tomorrow for Crestwood, I need to pack."

 

 


	6. Of Wardens and Rainy Days

I manage to startle Blackwall, which I take as a great triumph of my developing sneaking skills.

I get all the way up behind him as he is painting some small wooden toy, and whisper in his ear in my best breathy bedroom voice:

"Oh, Thom..."

He almost falls off the chair. I laugh so hard. It’s mean, but I love to watch them squirm. I’d probably feel worse about pranking half the Inquisition using the ammunition I have from my knowledge of their deepest secrets, but I don't have an agenda on any of them, so I write it off as "making friends". At least to ease my conscience.

"Maker's ball, woman, I could've hurt you or myself if I was carving," Blackwall admonishes me.

"I checked first!" I pout, then giggle. He’s perhaps the only person who calls me "woman".

 

Cullen goes with My Lady, which is ridiculous on multiple levels, one of which is the obvious fact that I am now an elf. Vivienne is "my dear"-ing when she deigns to talk to me at all. Dorian, Bull, Sera and Max call me Elphie. Although I suspect that Sera actually calls me "Elfy". Perhaps only affectionately after that one time, when I baked her muffins, and we got drunk together, and I ranted for a solid two hours about how the Elvhen gods can go suck it. Especially Mythal and Fen'harel. I got interesting looks from Solas the next day. I haven't even realized he’s been at the tavern. Ever.

Josephine, Cassandra and Cole call me Elpheba. Cole has called me by my real name a couple of times in the beginning, but I told him it would be better if he didn't call me by it in front of the others. So he took to the habit of calling me Elpheba and reserving my real name for the cold and lonely nights I curl up next to him in the corner of the Herald’s Rest’s attic.

Solas still most often calls me ‘da'len’, and I’m getting to the point, where I will have to sit down with him and tell him everything, and 'please just stop calling me “child” in a language that doesn't belong to me'. Not that Varric is much better with his Shield Girl. Not even Shield Maiden, but "girl"! Hah!

So when Blackwall usually calls me 'woman', I get the warm and fuzzies every time. He only ever calls me 'My Lady' when he’s messing with me. Sera had a fit when he did it during our second "Muffins and ale" party. I took to calling him Thom after that, as a revenge. "It's his middle name" I explain to anyone who finds it suspicious.

"Will you be coming with us?" I ask when I can breathe again from the laughter. Blackwall tenses but nods.

"Yes. The Inquisitor asked me, given that we are going to meet a fellow Grey Warden."

I nod in agreement. I thought that Max might figure it that way too. I never really played attention to such detail in my playthroughs. I preferred good company and good fighting party to story appropriate groups. But I had at least one playthrough where I took everyone with me to the right places.

"Do you want some heads up?" I ask nonchalantly, like I'm just commenting on the weather. He studies me for a moment, probably checking if I'm just going to prank him again, or I have genuine intel from my "seer abilities".

"I would be thankful," he says eventually. I nod again wisely.

"So," I begin and glance around to check that we're thoroughly alone, before I continue in a quiet voice, that isn't quite a whisper. "How much do you actually know about the Grey Wardens?"

He's taken aback. I can see his thoughts race as his whole view of me is being recalculated. At least he knows me well enough by now, that he knows I'm not just pulling his leg.

"Not... much..." he allows. I give a huff of laughter and plop myself his lap. He starts his retort but as soon as I get my lips right up to his ear, and whisper his real name into it, and bid him quiet, he stills.

He's still as a rock, as I whisper in his ear the whole of my knowledge of him, of his history, of my opinion on his history, of the Grey Wardens, of my opinion on becoming a Grey Warden, and finally about the false Calling.

Viewed from afar, we look like a couple stealing a few moments to themselves. Look a bit closer, we still look like a couple necking. It's only if you look real close, that you notice how my fingers carding through his hair are calming instead of sensual. A support, a balm to calm a frightened beast. It's only up close that his tense posture is readable as that of a cornered beast, and not that of a man, who's holding back from having his woman right here, right now, over this table.

I tell him that too, and I feel his cheek heat against mine.

"So, Thom, please be careful, but be true. You don't have to be anything else than you already are. Should I quote Cole? Although I'm not sure he had said it yet..."

"Said what?" His voice is rough.

"Something about names something-something... But the sentence that really stuck with me was this: _A black wall to shield the self when the sky is rainier._ I like you. I'll always like you. And you'll never be able to convince me that you don't deserve a second chance." I kiss his cheek then and stand bidding him goodbye with a wide smile and shining eyes.

I have to hide in the dusty library until I regain my composure and my eyes stop being red from the unshed tears.

 


	7. A Spell of Crestwood

Crestwood is a clusterfuck. And that's putting it mildly. And we're actually quite successful as far as the quests are concerned.

 

I've been training these past few weeks while Max was running around the Hinterlands, cleaning up things there and at Redcliffe, and while we search&rescued his soldiers from the Fallow Mire.

I trained with the Chargers and when they weren't around, I trained with Cullen and his recruits. And when he was too exasperated with me, I trained with Sera, and then we baked, and got drunk, and I missed a couple days of training as a result.

Another result was, that Skinner took a shine to me even after me mentioning that I'm actually meant to be a shemlen. She taught me how to use knives and daggers without chopping myself up. With Cullen and his recruits, I've learned how to dodge and evade sword and shield attacks. With Sera we practiced shooting arrows and I was getting better at it, if ever so slowly.

It took Bull seeing me hungover once and getting my ass handed to me by Skinner and Dalish, that he brought in Dorian to teach me how to fight against magic. I told him to shove it, if it got that bad I would just call on the Protection. He called me out on it and it turned out that indeed, it was not working for trivial matters.

So I got toasted by Dorian a couple of times every week.

The weirdest training was when Solas caught me lurking in the Fade, and cornered me about it in the waking world. After my explanation about lucid dreaming and that no, I'm pretty sure I'm not a mage, he got me to study with him anyways.

"It'll help with summoning that Protection spell too," he said and I huffed and puffed, but did my homework like a good little dalen. I called him stupid wolf that week, tho.

 

Crestwood is a clusterfuck because it’s Blackwall, Solas and Sera accompanying Max, and they get along as well as a forest on fire. It also doesn't help, that while they work surprisingly well together, the terrain and the weather is too much against them. Sera also hates magic, as well as demons, and Solas is a stupid Egg enough to respect her choice, and not cast barriers on her.

And we have to wade through a whole town of demons and undead. I cast the Protection spell on the group after the second time Sera is almost cut in two by a Terror demon, and she has to down a whole healing potion.

This time the target is so small (just the four of them, I didn’t even push to get Hawke and his 'Warden friend' under it too), that I manage to cast it without anyone noticing. Only Solas gives me a look but I just shrug and ask "What?" He shakes his head with a slight frown but doesn't say anything.

And we slog through the endless rain, and take a whole fortress, and I manage to mostly avoid combat all together and just concentrate on holding the spell. Then we go to find Hawke and his friend instead of opening the dam and dealing with the rift underneath, because Max deems it better to warn them and get to the rift the next day, after we rested and sent letters and got some reinforcements perhaps.

I gotta give it to him, that man was born to lead and strategize. He isn't doing the stupid hero act, but can actually efficiently delegate. Well, mostly.

So, Crestwood is a clusterfuck, because we’ve fought half the enemies that are within the area, and then we meet up with Hawke, and he introduces us to his friend, and I lose my heartbeat somewhere between "Easy, Alistair, they're friends" and "Grey Warden, and royal bastard at your service".

Then the spell breaks, and the backlash is almost as bad as it has been at Haven, and I collapse like a rag doll.

 

***

 

"What do you mean you didn't know? Couldn't you feel her cast?" Max is shouting at someone.

"No, I couldn't. I felt only the faintest disturbance of the Veil. Even the simplest spell would've caused a bigger stir," Solas answers. Oh, right, they're arguing about me again. "I believe it might be because her target was so much smaller, just the four of us."

"But why did she collapse then?"

"Coz Sera's shite with the demons..." I mumble.

There’s a tense silence before somebody speaks. Of all of them, it’s Alistair.

"Dear Maker, she's alive!" He whispers almost reverently.

"Of coss...’Malive." I drawl and I can feel Solas' familiar hand curling around the nape of my neck to lift my head and help me drink. Elfroot potion. The Rejuvenating formula, not the healing potion. It tastes sweeter and less dirt-like. More green grass, less bitter lemon. "Thank you," I say as my voice returns and I blink my eyes open.

We’re still in the cave where Alistair was hiding out, and I am surrounded by big burly men staring at me worriedly.

"Okay, that's not funny. Where's Sera?" I ask.

Solas sighes, and after he helps me sit up and settle against a boulder, he tells me how she freaked when I collapsed and how, after learning that I pulled the quote-unquote "same shite as in Haven", she ran out of the cave and is probably putting arrows in some hapless tree.

"And you just let her leave like that? Alone?" I’m getting on my feet even as my legs refused to cooperate.

"Elphie, you need to rest..." Max tries to placate me but I turn on him.

"She’s out there alone! There are not only bandits out there, but just down the hill to the east there's a fucking dragon. And I love and respect the shit out of that girl, but she's exactly the type who would go and poke at a sleeping dragon just to show how awesome she is!" I am shouting by the end and Max has paled to match the light grey of the stone of the cave.

"How do you even know that?" Hawke asks.

"The word is out there about the dragon and a wyvern too, that's not new," Blackwall shoots him down. "But I agree with her about Sera. Especially when she's pissed at herself, she tends to get into trouble."

"Or make some," we hear a female voice from the hideout's door. "Do you really think I'm so daft I’d go chase a dragon by m’self?" Sera said as she casually saunters back in.

I glomp her.

"You practice a bit with your bow and with that lotsa-cutsa stuff, and you will be able to take on a high dragon by yourself, you’ll see. Just not yet," I hiccup in her scarf. She pats me on the back awkwardly until swearing a "what the heck" and hugging me back full force. Before the potion's effects run out on me I get in a quick "It wasn't your fault and I'm sorry" before going limp in her arms.

***

They decided to make camp in the hideout cave, sending a corvid with news to the Nightingale and relishing the fact that it’s merely a "bit damp" inside the cave instead of the "soaking wet" of outside.

"I'm sorry," are the first words out of my mouth when I wake again.

"Stop apologizing, Elfy," Sera hushes me. We’re sharing a bedroll apparently. The Inquisition still haven't quite gotten the hang of separating the sleepers by gender _and_ orientation. Not that I mind. She is hugging me close and the faint smell of cookies still lingers around her.

"You've been practicing the cookies while I wasn't watching!" I whisper accusingly. She just laughs and then kisses the top of my head.

"Just rest, short stuff, and get right again, yeah?"

"I'm always right," I huff but snuggle closer anyway.

"Yeah-yeah..."

 


	8. A Simple Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there should be some trigger warning before this chapter. I don't know how to tag for that however, so any help is welcome.

The next day is as rainy and miserable as the previous. I hate Crestwood. It actually took me about three playthroughs to realize that, in the game, it was night during the rainy part. You could get a glimpse of Satina among the clouds, if you spared a look toward the sky among all the demons and undead and more demons.

Not that daytime makes any difference now whatsoever.

Hawke and Alistair meet up with a few Inquisition soldiers at Caer Whatever: Crestwood Edition, and are heading back to Skyhold.

"Find and talk to a mage called Fiona," I call after Alistair. "She can tell you about your father." No reaction. "She also knew Duncan!" That gets him to pause for a moment but he just waves, without turning around, and they leave.

"Fucking Wardens, I swear..." I grumble as we gather around Max to plan for the day.

"We're going to drain the lake and see if we can get to that rift and close it," Max summarizes.

"I'm going to cast the Protection spell again,” I chime in. “Just a heads up."

The amount of “ _no you won't_ ” and “ _we're going to leave you at the fort if you try_ ” and “ _why would you do that?!?!_ ” is distressing.

"Look, I've seen what's down there, and I also need to practice," I explain. "For the big show!"

"What big show?" Max asks with barely veiled dread in his gaze.

"Coryphifish, of course," I say with the 'duh' implied at the end. Sera giggles at the nickname. I wink at her. I’ve learned from the best.

"I forbid you!" Maxwell bursts out. I blink at him, then cock my head to one side.

"With all due respect, _Inquisitor_ , you're no boss of _mine_. I owe no loyalty to you or your cause. I'm here to up the survivor count and I'll do anything to make it happen," I say. "So shove it!" I add for good measure and storm off toward the tavern on the dam and its backroom that houses the controls.

 

***

 

Of course, it turns out to be a huge mistake to wander off alone.

Instead of the teenage lovers, there's a half-crazed apostate blood mage hiding out in the Rusted Horn, who summons a bunch of demons as soon as he sees me enter.

I barely have time to react and it soon becomes painfully obvious, that no matter all the training I've been doing at Skyhold, I'm not cut out for fighting, full-stop. Let alone fighting demons.

After the Protection spell fails to spring forth for only my own sake, I try my best with my daggers, but I can barely dodge the fireballs of the mage. I'm doing nothing to the demons, and with five of the Terrors summoned, I don't last long on my feet.

It's a Greater Terror that gets me. I have just enough time to register the horn-like appendages on its head, when it pops up from the floor underneath me and sends me sprawling. The next moment its crawls rake through my upper torso and throat.

Blood fills my lungs as I strain to take a breath.

I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't...

My vision fades as I struggle without air. I can't even feel the wound. My world narrows into a single point of regret. Is this what it feels like to die? So quick, so clear cut. I didn't expect it to be so... Simple.

A simple mistake, and all I've worked for is gone...

My life should be flashing in front of my eyes, but all I see is the silhouette of an old woman, her hair made up like dragon horns. I can still hear her voice.

_"The price will be..."_ But the memory is broken. Like I am.

_"And try not to die before you fulfil your end of the bargain. I would be very upset."_

It's the inconsistency that brings me back from the brink, my mind already slipping into darkness.

But I can't remember the terms of the bargain. I can't remember why I came here... I wanted to save a man... _The Inquisitor_? No. I didn't know the Inquisitor would be Maxwell Trevelyan, I'm sure about _that_. But then... who?

I try to draw a breath again and I choke on the liquid in my lungs. It stings. It... wait, it's bitter. It's no longer just the coppery taste of my own blood. It's like... _elfroot_.

I force my eyes open and see a wide-eyed Solas, propping me up and leaning over me. His magic is trying to find purchase on my constructed body, and if anyone can, he should be able to heal me. His hand is glowing blue as he passes it over my chest, over my throat, my face.

I shudder and finally, _finally_ draw in a wheezy breath.

"Thank the Maker," I hear Max from above, and as I look up I lock eyes with him before the last shred of my strength gives up and I fall unconscious.

 


	9. Trapped

I'm under house arrest.

Luckily it's not just my room I'm confined to, but the whole of Skyhold, but still...

It actually takes me a few days to realize that I have a babysitter as well, in the Iron Bull. He's good at it too. He's not following me around all day. He's just simply always _there_. It's uncanny.

"He didn't!!!" I flip out when I realize it and confront Bull.

"Boss' orders. Can't do nothing 'bout it, Elphie."

At least he has the grace to look apologetic about it. Not that he seems genuinely sorry.

So I roam Skyhold and try to get him off my back. It sort of devolves into a game. Whenever I manage to shake him, he awards me tiny Orlesian cakes for dinner. I don't have the opportunity to grow fat.

I'm so pissed. It wasn't my fault that there was a blood mage holed up in the abandoned tavern, instead of the teenage lovers. And that he summoned all those demons. And I really did my best during training. I’m just not cut out for fighting.

I wish I had magic. Everything would be so much simpler.

But also more dangerous. I know for a fact, that Leliana only tolerates me because I am truly harmless. Even after all the work the Inner Circle has put into training me, I'm shit at fighting.

And the Inquisitor is off to the Western Approach with Dorian, Cole and Blackwall in tow. And I'm left in the tender care of an annoyed Ancient Elvhen god and a too-good-at-his-job Ben-Hassrath agent.

I miss Cole. I liked hanging out with him in the Herald’s Rest's upper corner every other evening. I think he was always there on purpose too. Healing my hurt.

Now I'm untethered. Everyone's just so busy. Even the Iron Bull. He still has to keep the Chargers in shape. They have some sort of a short mission every now and then. They always go with Krem's leadership, as Bull is promised to be available for the Inquisitor's convenience.

And now he's stuck with babysitting me. Hehh.

Varric is writing business letters. Half of which I'm convinced is actually for friends from Kirkwall and not to the Merchants' Guild.

I don’t know what Vivienne is doing because every time I get near her balcony, she must sense me with her sixth sense of all inappropriate and uncivilized, and she gives me the kind of stink-eye that makes you want to never get in the sights of that person.

Cassandra is worried about the Seekers and is working with Leliana on finding them. I wish I could tell her where to look, but I don't even dare to try. Knowing Asha'bellanar, I wouldn't be able to speak about it anyway.

I worry about Blackwall. And I worry about Hawke.

Every time I see Alistair around the keep, I feel like my heart is being crushed. I think Bull has noticed how I keep avoiding the Warden.

Sera is actually away from Skyhold. Some kind of Red Jenny business. I felt betrayed when she left. Left me all cooped up. If I don't get to go outside soon, I'm going to go stir-crazy.

I spend most of my time in the gardens. We got the first batch of flowerbeds fixed soon after we got back from Crestwood. Or so I'm told. I didn't wake up until a few days after we got back. And Inky only stayed to shout at me and order me to stay put, before he left to continue investigating the missing Wardens.

I feel itchy from not being able to talk about the future. I could provide so much information. Easy answers to hard questions. But every time I approach Leliana in the aviary, I feel the soft tug of the contract I magically signed, the so-called _bargain_ I’ve made, and get scared that I would lose my chance of doing more good if I broke it now.

And my life would be forfeit before it was time.

So I stay silent and garden. And read. And feel miserable.

 

***

 

"I don't fucking care!!!" I shout drunkenly at the Iron Bull. I might've overdone the consuming of the fine Fereldan ale they serve at the Herald's Rest. But I wanted to wallow in self-pity for a little bit at least. "I want to be alone! I want to see the world! I want to go Giant baiting!!!"

I'm just spouting nonsense. But I'm really just soooooooo done with being locked up inside the keep. Even if Skyhold is a gorgeous and huge keep. It's a keep. Barely anything happens here and the tall walls always surrounding me are starting to make me feel like I'm being slowly suffocated by them.

Maybe it's the ancient elven magic sleeping in the stone that I'm feeling, I think in a drunken haze.

I need air.

Bull is fast, but I'm still faster in my too slender elven body. I've lost some weight since I got here. I'm never hungry and I forget to eat more often than not. I also keep running around all day. Even though my coordination, when sober, is the same as it always has been. Non-existent.

But when drunk, I seem to forget that I have limits. And I am _fucking_ _fast_ on my feet.

I'm up on the battlements before Bull can catch me. And I'm balancing on the very edge of the outer wall, staring at the stars and Satina as it’s just starting to rise at the edge of the horizon. Fuck, but I love that bigger moon. It's like my personal nightlight. Just bright enough to make the nights perfectly lit for my taste.

"Aren't they just beautiful?" I breathe in awe when I hear Bull's careful steps behind me.

"Yeah, they are," he says gently. "Now come down from there before I have to go and get you."

I don't turn around. I don't want to see the calculation in his eye. How he measures the distance and the speed, and whether he could catch me or not if I slipped. And fell.

I look down. It's quite a long way down to the ice of the frozen river. I idly wonder if the fall would kill me or just send me into another days-long sleep. If demon claws tearing my throat open couldn't do it, maybe a few storeys' worth of falling to a hard surface wouldn't either. Only _almost-_ dying can make you feel invulnerable.

The icy mountain winds pick up and I sway slightly before shivering. Sometimes this reality feels so distant. I don't know if it's the lingering effects of the Protection spell, but it's hard to keep a hold on reality when my perception of it is ever changing.

My numbness lift abruptly, however, when a huge grey arm grabs me around the waist and draws me off the stone wall.

"Hey!!" I protest weakly. "Stop manhandling me~!!" I slur slightly. But it's only half-hearted. Bull's warmth sends all my senses into high alert. _Damn him_.

His touch is hot like a branding iron, even through my rough linen shirt. His scent, a mixture of sweat and alcohol and just _male_ , is making my head spin more than all that ale I drank.

He growls in warning, probably as fed up with my shit as I am with being locked up, and I melt in his arms, and he has to catch me for real as I stumble against him.

"I can't do this anymore..." I murmur with my face buried against his bare chest.

"I know, El. I'll talk to the Inquisitor when he gets back, okay?" He answers quietly and I shiver again, this time from the way he calls me by a new nickname. I like it. I like it too much. I like _him_ too much.

I try to pull away, but my feet decide to give up the fight, and I'm swept up into strong arms and find myself eye-to-eye with Bull before I can faceplant onto the battlement.

"Easy there, Elphie," he rumbles. I love his voice. It's so much better than in-game. How is that even possible? "Let me take you back to your room."

I keep staring at his one good eye.

"Will you stay?" I ask, one hand absently playing at the edges of his eyepatch. I never saw him without it here. I sort of know what lies beneath, but I am sickly fascinated by it still.

"I think I'd rather not. Not while you're like this."

I pout and fumble at the fastening of the eyepatch.

"Take it ooooff..." I whine, frustrated at my clumsiness.

He just chuckles.

"I'll behave if you take it off. I wanna see~..." I coax him.

There's a rough sigh of resignation and I find myself swaying on my unsteady feet again. We're in front of my room. When did we get indoors?

He reaches up and with surprising deftness unties his eyepatch. I stare. The absence of his left eye stares back. I swallow and raise shaking finger to touch. He stops me by grabbing my wrist. When I try to push on, he tightens his grip ever so slightly.

"You said you'd behave," his voice is a quiet warning.

I blink the sudden haze of lust away. His hand, his voice, his grip around my wrist... _daaaamn_... I swallow drily.

"Sorry," I almost add 'sir'. But I managed to hold my tongue and turn toward my door instead.

The Iron Bull lets go and I can't quite stifle my disappointed whimper.

"Good night!" I say too loudly, voice pitched too high. I'm inside my room, leaning against the door with a hammering heart, before he can blink.

What. _Was_. **_THAT?!?_**

I slide down the door, curling up in to a tight ball, with my knees drawn close to my shaking body, and my face buried in my arms.

_What am I doing...?_

 

 


	10. Here Lies the Abyss

I stay in my room for the next few days, only venturing out once I hear that the Inquisitor is back.

Max looks haunted. His companions are not in much better shape. I think about what they must've found in the Western Approach and huff in sudden anger. I should've been there. I could've saved lives.

I say so to Max's face once the War Council is gathered together.

"When you're storming the Adamant Fortress, I have to be there. It's non-negotiable," I say with a hard voice. I try not to flinch at the cold gaze Leliana levels at me.

But the Inquisitor just nods tiredly.

"Yes, I believe it's for the best." He sighs like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders. Which, I guess, is true. "But you'll have to stay as far away from the actual fighting as possible."

I nod carefully. I'll try to stay away. As far as I possibly can without jeopardizing the Protection spell.

 

***

 

I gasp at the sight of the fortress. It's huge. Almost as big as Skyhold, though not as beautiful. It sings with dark magic.

I am front and center. Well, the battering ram is front and center, but I'm just behind it. They are waiting for me to do my 'little trick' before they start the attack.

My whole body is shivering. Haven was different. It was almost small compared to this. It wasn't this intense. It wasn't this real. Maybe because I didn't have time to realize the danger I was in. Or the miracle I had to pull off.

But now, I know. I know how many Wardens and soldiers would perish without me. I know that every second wasted might mean another Warden's life lost.

So I take a deep breath and focus my whole being on protecting the people.

It's like I'm scraped raw. The spell is reluctant and the more power I try to summon for it the harder it becomes. Until suddenly the blue magic blooms over the sky and settles over the whole fortress as well as the Inquisition army.

Cullen is giving orders to start the siege and I drop to my knees a bit stunned as the spell tugs at me already. The sacrifices. I stopped the sacrifices. _Thank the Maker..._

I wasn't sure it'd work. But it does, and I feel tears of relief streaming down my face. I just have to keep it up until...

Time flows differently when I'm under the spell. My awareness cuts back and forth between all the people I'm protecting and myself. Time is lost easily, while sometimes a single second stretches into eternity.

It feels like it's been only a moment ago that the gates buckled and Maxwell stormed in with his companions, when I hear the shriek of the dragon.

_Oh no._

_I forgot about the Fade._

**_I mustn't break the spell._ **

I don't know how I know, but suddenly I'm convinced, that if I don't follow the Inquisitor to the Fade, we'll end up one man short by the end of the day.

Before anyone notices, I'm running inside Adamant and up the stairs, looking for Max and following him as he chases after Warden-Commander Clarel. It sends me to my knees when the fake archdemon makes a chewtoy out of her. So _that's_ what it feels like to be chomped on by a dragon...

She's out but alive, and the Inquisitor has cornered the Venatori asshole Erimond. Then the dragon strikes again and the already battered fortress' walls give under Max and his team.

I run after the tumbling Inquisitor, and throw myself after them. I have to make it. I HAVE TO.

 

***

 

My scream is the loudest sound in the Fade. It echoes around the green and black landscape.

I feel like my whole body is on fire. Like someone is trying to flay my flesh from my bones. It's not the unravelling of the spell at least, and that is the only comforting thought that penetrates the thick fog of pain.

"Solas, do something!" I hear Max yell at the elf.

Suddenly the pain subsides as a familiar magic wraps around and around me, like silken scarves, wrapping me all up, to keep my body together.

I focus my eyes on Solas as he is holding me by my arms. His eyes seem to almost glow. But it's just my imagination.

There's a relieved sigh in the background and then the irate grumbling of the Inquisitor.

"Why does she never _listen_!?"

I shiver as I'm pulled to my feet and I cling to Solas. I'm unable to speak, unable to move on my own, unable to do anything really as I concentrate on keeping up the spell even this far away.

We're so far away. How can anything be so far away? I'm so cold. Was it always this cold in the Fade? I'm not supposed to be here. I can feel my whole being protesting about being here. My body, this constructed shell my soul has been shoved into, does not belong here.

But my soul... If I listen carefully, I can almost hear the sounds of the life I've left behind... So I don't listen. I concentrate on all the lives I'm protecting instead, and I listen to only the conversation between Max, Hawke and Alistair.

Solas takes on guiding me. I think he realized that I'm connected to Mythal somehow. I think it's the Ancient Elvhen that feels familiar in his magic.

Blackwall and Alistair take point as we make our way through the paths of the Nightmare's domain, with Hawke and Varric guarding our backs.

The fearlings are more annoying than scary. I catch glimpses of truly terrifying sights, but my perception is so twisted right now, they keep changing and it becomes more ridiculous than scary.

The Inquisitor reclaims his memories as we're guided by the spirit of the Divine. We came upon the little graveyard and my grip on Solas tightens as he goes rigid seeing his own inscription.

I try to speak, but no sound comes out.

 

Then the Nightmare demon speaks and it's all I can do, not to twist away and crawl under a stone when he addresses me too.

"You, little girl, it must feel so selfless. Throwing away your life to save another. But it wasn't much of a life, was it. No one will miss you and you won't even succeed in saving that foolish man either. You selfishly want him for yourself, but you’re doomed to die anyway. You were doomed to fail before you even arrived here."

I hate it. I hate it because it's true and because it's not.

Yes, I gave up my life willingly for a fantasy of a man. And I knew that no one would miss me, but it was part of my deal. I didn't want my family to suffer my loss.

It still smarts. To hear it spoken so plainly, so carelessly. It is hard to accept. But I wanted to do something! I wanted my life to matter, and it never would've in my world. I guess it _is_ selfish in that regard.

Solas' arms tighten around me and he throws back some harsh sounding words at the demon in elven. It answers him in the same language and I recognize the words as those spoken in the game. I mouth Solas' calm answer with him. _Banal nadas_.

 

We fight our way to the demon.

I say we, but of course, I'm just a hindrance. The Protection spell still sparks weakly from time to time, the blue lights almost visible here, in the Fade.

It takes longer to defeat the Nightmare than I'd like, and when we reach the rift back to Adamant Fortress, I'm almost dragged through by Solas. I twist away just in time, to remain behind with Max, Hawke and Alistair, as their path is cut off.

They are arguing about who should stay behind, and I scream at them from the other side of the demon.

"Either you get them both clear, Inquisitor, or you're going to lose me too," I find enough strength to shout. All three of them stare at me in utter shock before their line of sight is cut off by the recuperating demon.

I hear Max cursing before he issues new strategies, and they all start to fight their way around the monstrosity.

I inadvertently become the necessary distraction.

I don't noticed the demon attention shifting to me, until I am thrown against a bolder and hear a rib crack. The pain is momentary as the already straining Protection spell protects me too. But I'm too dazed to move and my vision blurs and darkens alarmingly.

I can't lose consciousness now. I must keep up the spell. I must...

Strong arms grab me and I'm lifted clear off the ground. A green flash of light and a loud crack and everything goes quiet around me before a loud cheer goes up.

I force my eyes open to catalogue the crowd around me. Alistair and Hawke are both alright. I am standing in the middle of Adamant Fortress’ courtyard, held on my feet by Max's steadying one-armed embrace.

He holds his speech to deal with the Wardens, while I still cling to consciousness as the world shifts in and out of focus.

Solas hurries up to us once Max is done with the big words, and takes over from the Inquisitor babysitting me.

"Is it over?" I whisper, my voice tired and hoarse.

"Yes," he says simply, and I sigh in relief.

As the Protection spell breaks, there's the same wave of surprised gasp going up around us as after Haven.

"Well done," Solas murmurs and a tiny smile tugs at my lips before I give in to the darkness.

 

 


	11. Lost Soul

When I wake, I'm in a tent, with Solas watching over me. Again.

A giggle escapes as I think about how I'm getting used to this. I'm getting used to fainting every time I overtax myself with the Protection spell. I'm getting used to waking up with the immeasurable pain of countless wounds, or the full body soreness I'm experiencing right now.

And I'm used to having Solas' be the first face I see.

He makes me think of Flemythal. What a jokingly adorable nickname by the fandom _that_ seemed when all this was just a game...

"Da'len?" Solas leans over after hearing me giggling. He looks worried, and I can't help but fall silent and swallow hard. One day this man is going to destroy the whole of his world in a vain attempt of trying to save it.

But right now, he calls me 'dalen' and he's worried about me. I shake my head in an effort to chase away the grim thoughts.

"It's nothing," I whisper. I don't quite have my strength back yet, but I'm relatively fine. "How is everybody?" I ask.

"Alive," he says, the concern on his face not fading. "In no small part, thanks to you."

It's disconcerting to be able to read his emotions so easily. Is it just because he lets his walls down around me? Or is the ability to figure out the old wolf included in the 'perks' the Witch left me with?

"I've just done my job..." I say quietly as I push myself up into a sitting position. I feel restless, even though I'm exhausted. Solas is quick to steady me with an arm around my shoulders.

"I was meant to speak to you about that," he says carefully, and he must sense me stiffening. "Your body... in the Fade... it is truly not your own, is it? I didn't realize before..."

I'm silent. How could I explain? How could I tell him about Flemeth, without mentioning her joining with Mythal? Or I could tell him about Mythal as well. Or I could tell him everything I know. He would probably _love_ to hear about a whole different world.

But I'm afraid what it might change... And I still don't remember whom I am supposed to be here for. The laughter of the Nightmare demon echoes in my mind. The meaning of its last words to me before we escaped comes back clear, even though they were spoken in elven. **_"You shall never find your purpose again."_**

I shiver and Solas rests his free hand on my arm.

"I do not mean to alarm you, da'len..." he begins before I cut him off.

"Please don't call me that. It makes me feel like an impostor," I say, staring at his freckled hand over my own pale arm. I haven't noticed he had so many of them. Tiny brown spots, like his own galaxy, mapped out on his lighter coloured skin. I tried not to notice a lot about him. I try not to notice a lot about a lot of people.

_Don’t get attached. Your time is limited here._

"Ma nuvenin," Solas says and I try not to flinch at hearing one of the few elven expressions I’ve actually learned by myself. _As_ myself.

"I..." I take a deep breath before trying to speak again. "I made a deal... with a certain entity... not a demon, but... yeah... I think I paid, and will continue to pay a heavier price that I expected." I sigh and finally look up to meet his eyes, and startle a bit when I find him so close.

"Do you regret you decision?" he asks gently.

"No!" The answer is out so fast, I surprise even myself.

But it's true. I've no regrets. I wonder why?

"I do not have any regrets. I do not remember the details of the deal, and that makes me feel... untethered. But I know I'm doing the right thing."

Yes. I’m _supposed to_ be here. Aren’t I? Was it truly just my selfish wish that got me here?

Solas smiles reassuringly, but his features are still tight with tension and his next question makes my blood turn to ice.

"The… ‘entity’, you have made your deal with…” He begins, his voice deceptively calm and steady. “Their name is Myth---"

“DON’T!” I cry out. He mustn’t name her!

It’s a strange rush of wrongness. He mustn’t, he mustn’t, he must NOT!

“Elpheba?” Solas asks confused.

As I open my mouth to explain, my voice is stuck in my throat, all I can get out is, "I can't. I can't-I can't-I can't..."

My vision darkens, and the white noise of rushing blood grows louder and louder in my ears, until my sense of this world is narrowed to the irrefutable fact that I cannot speak about my arrangement with Flemythal, to anybody. Not even the old wolf. Not even if he already knows.

I can't tell anyone about Mythal, about Flemeth, about myself. Why? WHY? I just want to not feel so alone. I just...

I can't breathe. I hear Solas' worried voice, but it's so far away. I can't concentrate, I can't... I can't...

_I shouldn't be here at all._

Slowly a familiar voice filters through my panic, and I hear my name being called over and over, but it's hard to concentrate when none of this should be real.

"Elphie? Elphie!" No, not my name. But the voice is grounding. Is that the Iron Bull? What is he doing here?

I reach out, half blindly, hungry for the connection to this world. Hungry for a proof that this is all, indeed, real. As my shaky fingers find purchase on Bull's bare chest, I marvel at the contrast of pale pink flesh against darkened grey. How can he even exist? Elves are weird enough, but merely having pointed ears and bigger eyes feels like nothing compared to the grey skin and horns of the qunari. He should be impossible. What was Ghilan'nain thinking?

And that thought, a fact that is definitely not an actual fact, but merely speculation, drags me back completely into focus. I feel the Iron Bull's steady heartbeat under my palm. His hand cradles my face and I look up to meet his single good eye.

"There you are," he rumbles, gently.

His voice is warmth. His voice is safe haven. His voice is _home_.

 


	12. Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter.
> 
> Happy New Year, everybody!!!

The almost idyllic scene between me and Bull is broken by the Inquisitor entering the tent.

"Is she awake yet?" Max asks. Rather demands actually.

"Yes, Inquisitor," Solas gives a shallow bow and eyes Max with a weary gaze.

I still have trouble concentrating on anything else than the surety Bull gives me. Max must've seen me by now, sitting up and seemingly fine, because he barks an order.

"Leave us."

"Boss, she took this one pretty badly," Bull says, not breaking our gaze. "Maybe you could give her some more tim...."

"I said," Max grinds out, "Leave. Us."

I can feel the slightest tightening of Bull's body, as he fights off an unwanted reaction.

"Yes, boss," he says, and I let out a small whimper when he draws away and leaves the tent. Solas follows Bull outside, giving me one last worried glance, before closing the tent flap after him.

"What. Were. You. Thinking?!???" Max attacks me with words, as soon as we're alone.

"I..." my voice shakes and I pull my knees up, to hug them tightly to my body, curling into a tight ball on top of my cot. "...sorry..."

"Do you have a deathwish? Jumping after us like that?" Max says, and now he's next to me, his fingers curling around my face, forcing me to look at him. "You could've died in the Fade. You promised me, that you would stay away from the fighting. So why? What were you thinking?"

I stare into those deep, dark blue orbs and I feel my borrowed magic stir. My voice doesn't sound like mine when I speak next.

" _I have to save them. I have to bring both of them back. I can't lose anybody else. I can't. I won't,_ " I sound distant to my own ears. Cold and emotionless, while the certainty of a task boils in my blood. " _I'll protect them. I'll protect them all. Not even the Fade can take them from me. Because the Fade is power, the Fade is me, and I am the Fade..._ "

Max jerks away from me, as if he'd touched fire, and at the same time I slam both my palms over my mouth.

What was that? That wasn't me. That sounded like a proper demon. I flinch in anticipation of the retaliation from Max, but he stays motionless, staring.

"Maker..." he breathes. Then, he risks a step closer to me, until he can touch my cheek again.

"Elphie," he begins, his voice terrifying in its gentleness. "You can't keep doing this. You'll lose yourself. I know you must be trying to help, but you can't do this."

I shiver under his soft gaze and gentle touch.

"I have... to..." I choke out between hiccoughing breaths.

"No." Max says with determination. "I won't allow it." He turns away and heads for the tent entrance before I can find my words again.

He looks back one last time.

"You belong to me, and I won't allow you to come to harm. Not even from your own hands," he says before he exits the tent.

I stay there, sitting on my cot, stunned, for many hours.


	13. Sneaking Around

The journey back to Skyhold feels much longer than the road to Adamant. What with Maxwell watching me like a hawk, (some pun intended,) and Bull trying very carefully not to be in the way.

It's almost funny, except it really isn't.

I keep watching Max back, and wondering, just what had happened that made him so bitter and suspicious. He didn't look like that when we first met. He seemed nice when we first talked properly in the War room.

But, I guess, the signs were there. I just didn't want to see them. Choosing the Templars, his cold reaction to the possibility of me being a mage or an abomination, the fact that he exiled the Wardens with cold efficiency.

Alistair and Hawke left with them. They would go to Weisshaupt to explain things. Hawke bid me farewell and left me a proper, fancy thank-you note.

Varric was so displeased with his friend leaving again, that I could practically see the "Greatly Disapproves" sigh hovering above his head. It was almost funny.

Almost…

I don't know what Maxwell is thinking, but I find myself scared, properly scared, for the first time since I arrived here. Almost dying was scary, the Fade was a torture. But not knowing if I'll be able to still complete my task, just because I'm in Max's clutches?... That's truly terrifying.

And so I'm keeping my head down and try planning for the worst. Because that's what one does. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.

I hang around Solas a lot. He still worries about me. It's the unspoken truth between us, that I was sent by Flemeth, by Mythal. I wonder if he plans to use that knowledge any time soon. The knowledge that the two are the same person now and that they're, _she_ is around, alive, meddling in mortal affairs.

 

 

I find Solas drinking tea beside the campfire one morning, and I'm instantly alert.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and he startles, even though I'm not terribly good at being silent on my feet.

"Elphie," he says my chosen name, and the fact that he remembered to use it, makes me shaky with anxiety.

"What happened? You hate tea," I say.

He blinks at me, then looks down at his travel mug.

"Yes," he says, his voice dreamy and not quite there. "It is vile stuff. But I have to be alert and stay away from the Fade."

I swallow hard, and try to keep my voice steady.

"It is Wisdom, isn't it? Your friend, Wisdom, is in trouble?"

He looks surprised only for a moment. Then he nods grimly.

"Yes."

"We have to go help it!" I say, my voice climbing higher at the memory of what awaits us. But maybe this time. Maybe we could be on time. Because we're on the road and not in Skyhold. We're near the southern edges of the Exalted Plains. We could be there faster, save Wisdom.

"Yes, I plan to ask the Inquisitor for help," Solas says. Then he forces a smile. "Thank you for your worry, da'len."

I frown, but Solas finishes off the last dregs of his tea and walks off toward Max's command tent.

 

 

I don't see Solas again until after we made camp again at the end of the day. I've been ordered to travel beside the Inquisitor, and when I asked about any possible detours, I only got a sharp look for an answer and was bid to stay quiet.

When I find Solas having dinner by his tent alone, he looks dejected and he's drinking tea again.

"When are we leaving for the Exalted Plains?" I ask hopefully.

"I'm not even surprised that you know about the location. I haven't seen you in the Fade lately, but that's good. You're safer outside of it."

It doesn't slip my notice that he hasn't answered my question.

"Solas?"

"We're not going. And you need to go back to your tent before the Inquisitor sees you talking to me." Solas' words are civil, if cold, but his voice is pained. It's barely a hint, but I can tell. I think I'll always be able to tell.

"What did Max say exactly?" I ask, trying to catch Solas' eye. He's kept his gaze on his small campfire, the flames throwing his profile into sharp relief.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "Go away, Elpheba. I do not relish in your company."

It should hurt, the words, so coldly delivered, but I'm angered instead. I march right up to Solas and grab him by his shoulder to force him to face me. "What...?"

But the question dies on my lips when I see his face fully. His left cheek sports a big bruise, the kind that remains days after being hit really hard. He must've healed it, but it wasn't healed fully yet. It would be gone by morning.

"He punched you," I say in a dead voice. Solas' ice coloured eyes meet mine before he shakes off my hand and turns back to his tea.

I can't believe my eyes. Did Max really do that? Is he turning into that kind of Inquisitor? Is it somehow my fault? It could be. It must be. Who knows what kind of imbalance my presence has already caused. But why? Why would he?

"Why?" I ask and something in Solas snaps.

"Why? Why?!?" he turns back to me furiously, his anger palpable. "I asked for his help. He said no. I made the mistake of imploring him. He said no in a very detailed way. I mention my displeasure with his choices. He did not take to it kindly, as you see." Solas says through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice level.

"We have to help Wisdom. We have to," I say, reaching out to him with shaky fingers. He regards me cooly before shaking his head.

"We cannot. The Inquisitor would punish you, if you came. And I cannot go after Wisdom alone."

At least there is no question that I _should_ go too.

"I've got a plan," I say suddenly. "Do you trust me?"

It's a difficult question. Solas knows a lot about me. He must also be aware that I know a lot about him as well.

"Yes," he says without hesitation, to my great surprise.

I smile widely.

"Be ready an hour before dawn," I say and hurry away. I've got a party to assemble.

 

 

Getting Varric to agree is easier than I would’ve thought. He is still wary about Max after the aftermath of Adamant. He's also eager to keep an eye on me when I run off to some crazy side mission.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to go chasing demons?" Varric asks. "I can go with Chuckles, you can count on me."

"I know, Varric, but I have to be there. The Protection spell could help."

The dwarf is not too keen on me using the spell again so soon, but he can see my determination. So he agrees.

I go for my next target.

A good team, at least according to the game theorists on the internet, includes a support mage (Solas), a DPS fighter (Varric) and a tank. The fourth of the team is optional. I'm useless, so I'm the optional part in our little rogue mission party, so my next stop is Blackwall.

"I knew you were a crazy woman, but this?" he shakes his head. "Trying to free a demon instead of killing it? You're impossible, Elphie."

"Is that a 'no', then?" I ask. I feel betrayed, if not completely surprised. I would've expected a similar answer from Cassandra. That's why I didn't even try to talk to her.

"No," he grins ruefully. "I'm going with you. Somebody has to keep you safe, if the apostate can't."

A wide smile spreads across my face and I throw myself at Blackwall to envelope him in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Thom, thank you!"

"I'm coming too," a rumble comes from behind us and I jerk away from the pseudo-warden to find the Iron Bull standing there, with his arms crossed, and a grave expression on his face.

"Bull, you can't..." I start but he cuts me off.

"I can, and you're lucky, it wasn't one of Red's, who overheard you," he says, and with a nod to Blackwall, he ushers me away. "You would be a terrible spy."

"I don't know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment," I grumble. We're heading toward the main fire where Max is having dinner with Cassandra and Cullen.

"I think it's good that you're honest," he chuckles. "It’s reassuring. But you have to be more careful. He has eyes on you." Bull gives a barely perceptible nod toward the Inquisitor's form.

"Yeah..." I sight and put on my very own mask of polite disinterest.

We have dinner with Max and he's pleased to see me handled. _If he only knew..._

 

 


	14. To the Rescue

We're too late. I know as soon as I set eyes on the barrier stones.

Wisdom is already turned into a Pride demon, roaring, laughing its dark laughter, lashing out at anything and anyone that moves close enough to the barrier the foolish mages trapped it in.

The foolish mages, who summoned Wisdom. The mages, who haven't been taught how to protect themselves, how to live outside the circles, how to take care of themselves.

The foolish mages whom I wish I could strangle with my own two hands.

Solas cries out in pain at the sight of the corrupted Wisdom spirit, and I can barely manage to raise the Protection spell over the five of us, before he starts working on the cornerstones.

"Help him!" I shout to Bull and the others over the growls and roars of the Pride demon. "Don't hurt the demon."

Bull gives me the strangest look, but nods grimly and rushes off to work on a second barrier stone. Four fighters against the four corners. It still takes too long.

Varric barely doges out of the way of a ball of electricity. Blackwall manages to get between me and the shot, the lightning shattering on his shield.

"Shield Girl, we can't keep this up for much longer," Varric shouts over from where he got some more distance between himself and the demon.

"He's right, Elphie," Blackwall pants, taking a breather as the demon's attention is drawn by Bull. "We have to put it down..."

"NO!" I shriek. I'm shaking with the straining Protection spell. Except for Solas, they all fight like the protection spell wasn't there. "I'll keep you safe, help it," I beg. "It's just a Wisdom spirit that answered the call for help. It wanted to help. Could you coldheartedly kill Cole, if he turned into a demon, but there still was a chance to purify him?"

There's a horrified look on Blackwall's face, and I know, that I got my point across.

"My spell will protect you. Help Solas save Wisdom, please!"

The warden nods and is back in the fray the next moment.

It's a delicate balance of keeping the Pride demon distracted and witling away at the barrier stones. They have two pillars down, when there's a shout behind me.

I turn, only to see a furious Inquisitor drop from his horse. He had obviously ridden hard to catch up to us.

"What have you done?!?" he shouts at me but he doesn't wait for an explanation. He enters the fray in a storm of daggers and knives, going straight for the demon.

"NOOO!!" I cry out, pushing the Protection spell, trying  to extend it over the corrupted spirit, but instead of answering my plea, the spell shatters just after the Pride demon lashed out at the Iron Bull.

I scream in pain. This never happened before, the spell shattering, instead of me letting it go. I feel my flesh part as the last wound dealt to my protected ones transfers to me directly. I can see the Inquisitor burying his twin blades in the back of the demons neck, and see as it dissolves into the green flacks all demons dissolve into once defeated.

The next moment I land face first in the sparse grass.

 

_This used to be a beautiful green land of forests and rivers. Before the Exalted March._

 

"How could you let her? It's your fault! I forbid you coming here, exactly because of this! I knew she would be reckless and hurt herself. It's your fault if she dies!"

 

_I still find it beautiful. At least the small parts we saw of it in-game had nice places too. The elven tombs, the dragon’s lair. The golden halla, even if it's always gets tricking to herd her toward the Dalish camp._

 

"Where do you think you're going? Solas?! SOLAS!! If you leave now, do not ever come back!!"

 

_I try to remember if there are many wolf statues here. I feel like there should be, but it might be just my idle fancy. I do prefer the Emerald Graves. Both have sad stories, but the Graves and so much more beautiful with their seemingly endless, lush, deep green forests. And those cute, brown-skinned nugs._

 

"Boss, she needs a healer. She won't swallow the potion."

 

_Why couldn't I help her? I was so busy trying to reconcile the inevitable with the chance to get it right for the first time. Instead I made a complete mess of it. I failed her._ Her _. I even keep thinking of Wisdom as a ‘her’. When even Solas speaks of_ her _as 'it'. A spirit is genderless. And a spirit is one trait embodied. And now Wisdom is dead, destroyed in the worst possible way. Lost forever. And it's all my fault._

 

"Elpheba! Elpheba, look at me! Can you hear me? You have to drink the potion. That wretched apostate left. I can't heal you, you have to drink! Elpheba, it's an order! Drink, come on, just swallow!"

 

A hand tightens over my fingers and I can feel the missing digits and the slightest of tremors. I hear Bull whispering something that almost sounds like ' _katoh_ '. What does he want to be stopped?

Oh.

Me, from dying.

Because I'm that stupid. I need to be reminded. To live, to continue my work. There's still so much to be done.

But despair has a tight hold on me, and it's hard to see that there's more to still live for. And that one tragedy, one loss can't stop me from trying again.

 

"Finally. Yes, drink, drink it all. Thank the Maker, it's working," the Inquisitor sits back after he finished pouring a healing potion down my throat. "We need to take her back to camp and have a mage look at her.

"Dorian could..." Blackwall speaks up, but is cut off immediately.

"No," the Inquisitor says coldly. "And you should hold your tongue. You all betrayed my trust by coming with her. You will answer for it when we get back to Skyhold. Bull, can you carry her?"

"Yes, boss," Bull answers without hesitation and I'm lifted by strong arms, and cradled against a hard chest.

"...it wasn't... their... fault..." I whimper.

No one's listening anymore.

 

 


	15. Darker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early chapter as a celebration of a hundred kudos (and my birthday ;-P )!
> 
> And I'd like to take the opportunity to SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE over all the lovely comments I got!  
> Thank you all soooooo much!  
> (I still can't believe that there are people reading and LIKING my stuff 0w0)  
> But enough rambling...XD

Solas doesn't come back for days.

I heal quickly, only avoiding a nice long scar across my chest, because Max fed me his strongest healing potion in the Exalted Plains.

He doesn't let me out of his sight anymore. Not even for a moment. He makes me move to his quarters, when we get back to Skyhold, and I'm locked inside his room all day, while he works with the advisors.

I spend most of my time sitting on the balcony, watching the gates for Solas' return. The bustling keep does not calm me.

I fucked up big time, there's no way about it.

I learn that the mages were killed by a furious Solas, and that he didn't spare a word for anyone after Wisdom was destroyed. He just left, Fade stepped far, far away as soon as the mages were reduced to a pile of smoking corpses.

It's all my fault, I know.

They would try to convince me otherwise, I'm sure. Varric would tell me some story, probably about Hawke, and how he failed sometimes too. And Blackwall would be all said and puppy-eyed, and he would just say the things he can't in front of others, with his eyes.

And Bull...

But they can't talk to me. I'm not allowed visitors.

 

 

When Solas finally comes back, I'm asleep.

I know that I'm dreaming, but I can still see the real events unfold, even though my body is locked away in the Inquisitor's quarters.

I see the old wolf walk through the gates. He looks so tired, so old. I see him climb the steps to his room in the rotunda. I see him take out his paints and start on the next part of his murals. I can see how the Fade is bleeding through the pictures into the waking world.

I know he can't see me, but I think he can sense me there.

And then the Inquisitor enters the room.

The sounds are all blurred, just like the images, but I can understand the core of the argument.

Max is blaming Solas for me getting hurt. They argue and Solas is cold and calm and barely raises his voice, while Max shouts at him insults and accusations alike.

When his hand balls into a fist, I'm already flinching away in anticipation. The Fade rings with the sound of impact as the punch lands on Solas' face and he staggers back. A roar tears through the Fade, a furious howl of indignation.

But Solas, in the waking word, remains calm. He barely says anything else, and Max storms out discontent with the apostate determined to stay.

I watch as Solas' waves a healing hand over his cheek and the reddening lessens. He stays standing in the middle of the room for long minutes before he returns to his paints, only to realize that he needs to start over. The base of the painting dried too fast, still half-finished.

"You should wake up," Solas says to no one in particular, and I startle when I notice his lips aren't moving. "He is dangerous right now. He shouldn't find you defenceless."

"I'm sorry, hahren. I couldn't..." I whisper but his voice, echoing through this Fade-version of Skyhold, cuts me short.

"Don't be sorry," he says with sadness in his voice. "Be strong. I'll stay to protect you, as long as I can. Do not worry about me, just complete your task."

I gasp and quiver in fear when Solas turns and looks straight at me through the Veil itself.

"The Inquisitor is right in one thing: we can't afford to lose you."

 

 

I wake with a sharp inhale and have to grab the railing to keep myself from toppling over the edge and off the balcony. I turn sharply when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

It must be Max. It isn't time for my meal yet.

I scurry to sit on the sofa, so he doesn't find me on the balcony. He might decide that I could harm myself there and keep those doors closed too.

I barely settle into my usual depressed slouch, when Max's head clears the floor. He's up the rest of the steps in seconds and marches over to me.

"He's back," he says, his voice quivering with barely held back rage.

"Who is?" I play innocent. It might not be the best of tactics.

"Solas, that damned elven apostate," Max growls. I never heard him sound like that before. He scares me more and more each day. And I keep thinking, that it's my fault he turned into this kind of man.

"He dared to show up again! To insinuate that I can't handle the Anchor or my duties without his help!" Max is shouting now and I flinch at his raised voice. He notices and tries to get a better hold of himself. "Fade-expert... like I even need one, to know that demons are dangerous and should be ended on sight."

I barely hold back my tears at those words. He doesn't even realize how much it hurts me, that he thinks that way.

I catch a barely audible "fucking knife-ear" and I gasp sharply.

Max's gaze jerks to me.

"Not you," he says, hurrying over and kneeling in front of me, cradling my face in his palms, like I'm made of something fragile or precious. Like fine china. Or crystal, or Serault glass. "You're different. You said so yourself. You're not like them. Oh, Elphie..." He sighs out all of his frustration with the whisper of my name, and leans his forehead against mine.

I don't know what to do. My hand hovers at his shoulders, debating whether I should push him away or pull him closer. What have I done? And was it really me? I don't know anything anymore.

"Inquisitor," I say quietly, but he jerks away as if I had slapped him.

"Don't call me that!" His voice is sharp and cracks over me like a whip. "Don't ever call me that." He stands in a fluid motion and is back to pacing the room. "I hate it. I hate it so much. All of them looking for me for answers. When I'm not even... I wasn't even..."

Of course, his memories returned now. Whatever he believed, he now knows the truth, that it wasn't Andraste in the Fade with him. It was Divine Justinia. Or just her spirit. Or just a spirit that took her form. To complete her last will.

I try to find the words that could set things right. Like, that the Maker is still watching over us (in a manner of speaking). Or that he's still doing the right thing. That he should remember his kindness. That he should not abandon the weak.

But before I find the right words, he stops and levels a cool gaze on me.

"Rest, recuperate. We will be leaving for the winter ball at Halamshiral in a week. I will be taking you with me. Be prepared," he says and leaves.

I gaze after him with my mouth hanging open in shock. We're going to the Winter Palace. He's letting me go with him.

He called Solas a _knife-ear_.

I swallow hard and pull my blanket over me as I curl into a tight ball on the sofa. I should be planning my escape. But I know that if I do, I won't make it alone. And I need to make it to the Arbor Wilds. I have to protect Abelas and his Sentinels.

Because now I'm almost certain, that Max won't care about them.


	16. Altus

Dorian left.

I only realize it, when I'm brought to Madame de Fer for dress fitting, and I ask about why he isn't here. He'd be great on fashion input.

Vivienne regards me coolly before turning to Max for the answer.

"The Magister left," he says simply, like it's the most normal thing. "After we've returned from Adamant."

"...Altus..." I murmur, and feel my blood turning to ice in my veins. This is not good. This is so not good. And now I'm worrying about Dorian. Because he'll be in danger. The Venatori is still active. Although, at least he has Maeve on his side. I hope. Why did he leave? Without even a goodbye... I'm terrified of the man Max has become.

"What was that? Speak up, dear, or nobody will take you seriously," Lady Vivienne says. "You'll be by our dear Inquisitor's side now. You have to present yourself properly."

"I said," I grit out with prefect inflection. "That he is an Altus, not a Magister. I believe he has explained it to you all before."

Vivienne's hand twitches and I barely suppress my flinch. I can see that she wants to slap me. For speaking up against the Inquisitor. For looking as I do. A damned knife-ear. Reflecting badly on the Inquisitor.

"Elpheba," the Inquisitor's voice is harsh and I do flinch this time. "Do not speak to Madame de Fer in that tone."

Looks like he's not against all mages. Just the ones who aren't leashed by the Circles. Those who wish for freedom.

"It is all right, my dear," Vivienne says graciously. "We can't expect her to be up to the same standards of etiquette as you or I am used to."

There's a slight flash in Max's eyes, and I see where his indulgence toward Vivienne ends. What can I do? Everything's falling apart around me and I can do nothing but watch, and claw at the pieces floating by.

 

 

I'm released after my measurements are taken. I am not to have any input on the design of my dress. I don't even care anymore. At one time, I would've been looking forward to going to the Winter Ball. Now, I just hope that nothing truly tragic will happen. That we’ll all come out of it alive.

I keep running through scenarios in my head. Possibilities of how the night could end. How it could all go wrong, and what needs to be done for a successful event.

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts used to be one of the easiest quest lines. You couldn't really make any great mistakes. Survive the Game and you were golden. The rest were only about maximizing the returns. Even if you started out with disadvantages in Court Approval. And Max didn't even have those.

But now, so much have changed. I'm afraid that tragedy will strike. I'm afraid of what my involvement will change. Being presented by the Inquisitor's side? It's not only a terrible idea, it'll draw unwanted attention. I wonder whose idea it has been.

 

Being finally free to roam Skyhold for an afternoon, I head straight to the Herald's Rest to look for the Iron Bull. He would know what there is to be known. He would know what happened with Dorian.

He isn't in the tavern, however. I find Rocky hanging around though and he readily directs me to the training grounds, where I find Bull drilling Krem on shield work. I get chills from how it reminds me of the cutscene before Bull's personal quest.

Then I start noticing the slight differences. How Krem is doing well, how Bull is joking with him, how he compliments the younger man's progress. I feel my body relaxing in increments.

_Keep it together, Elphie!_

I take a deep breath before I stride up to the training pair.

"The Iron Bull," I call out to the qunari. "May I have a word with you?"

"Eplphie!" He cries out to me in good spirits. "Have you finally been released from house arrest?"

I swallow hard my initial harsh retort. Bull sounds like he doesn't know how the Inquisitor punished me by locking me away, by forbidding contact with anyone. But I know better. Bull knows, and he's trying to lighten the mood. And he's acting for the many eyes watching.

I plaster a fake smile on my face.

"Something of the sort. I'm to join Max's party to the Winter Palace," I say lightly. "I thought we could celebrate my brief freedom with some drinks at the Herald's Rest?"

It's a friendly offer, perfectly reasonable, and a good excuse to sit down and chat with the Captain of the Chargers in plain sight of everyone. And get his take on how things have turned out since I was spirited away into the highest room of the tallest tower, like some sort of fairy tale princess. With the Inquisitor as my guardian dragon.

"Hmmm, it's a bit early for drinking," the Iron Bull hums. "But I think the kids deserve some fun. They've been working especially hard lately," He finishes eying Krem before reaching quickly to mess up his hair.

"Hey," Krem protests, but a quick glance passes between them, and the Lieutenant has already caught onto the hoax. "Should I get the others, Chief?"

"The more the merrier. Isn't that right, Elphie?" Bull nods.

"Indeed," I say with a wide grin. "And I still owe Skinner a round for that knife trick she taught me."

So we're off to the tavern, swamping the second floor, as the core of the Chargers gathers around us and makes as much noise as they always would. It's easy conversation for a while, loud and full of bragging, stories about what the little group has been up to with the leadership of Krem, while their 'Chief' was traipsing about with the Inquisitor.

A few mugs of ale later and I end up sitting in Bull's lap, playing with one of his horn, and trying to find the most ticklish spot on his head for a bet.

"What happened with Dorian?" I whisper in Bull's ear before biting the tip of it playfully. There's a round of laughter at my antics, and the qunari’s answering tickling of my side sends me into hard giggles that make my eyes tear up. I don't miss how his eye flashes before narrowing with his grin.

He leans in more, not letting me dance away from his surprisingly agile fingers as he tickles me breathless.

"Not here. Later," he rumbles, and the words are playful enough, that even a keen listener can misinterpret them as flirting. I catch my breath as he pulls me back onto his lap, and I grin back playfully. We're good at this game, I realise, frighteningly good.

Time passes, and it doesn't take much to act like the drink is getting to me. I barely empty a full mug by myself, but the Chargers are having enough fun that the drink count is lost in the gathering army of empty mugs on the table.

Finally I pretend to fall asleep leaning against Bull’s side, on the bench, and a few minutes later he makes a great show of trying to rouse me and failing that, he gathers me in his arms and heads upstairs to his room. We’re followed by whistles and lewd comments from the merry Chargers.

I wait until his door click shut behind us, before opening my eyes and biding him to put me down.

"Tell me," I look up to him as soon as I'm standing on my own two feet again. He sighs and skirts around me to sit on his bed.

"How did you even hear about it?" He asks.

"I didn't, that's the problem," I whisper harshly. It's an effort to keep my voice down. "I asked about Dorian when Max took me for the dress fitting. The answer was colder than the Frostback Mountains’ winter."

Bull huffs in laughter, but there's little joy in the gesture.

"It was kind of a mess." He starts reluctantly. It's as if he's searching for a way to dampen the impact of the words that follow. "The Inquisitor had tricked him into meeting his father in Redcliffe. It wasn't... a happy reunion, to say the least."

"You've been there?" I ask.

"Yes, but I didn't hear what transpired. I only saw Dorian leave in fury," Bull pauses. "But after we got back to Skyhold...  You have to understand, Elphie, the Inquisitor had more and more disagreements with the 'Vint lately. Even before Adamant, they weren't seeing eye-to-eye. After that Fade business... he must've said something… The boss wasn't even on talking terms with Dorian when we disobeyed his orders..."

"What happened... after?"

"After we got back, the Inquisitor confronted Dorian. There was a shouting match, it attracted plenty of curious ears," Bull eyes me warily before he continues. "From what I understand, Dorian's father tried to use blood magic on him, and that was the real reason why he ran away from home. The Inquisitor, after finding out, said something along the lines of not trusting the 'Vint to not use blood magic himself.

"Dorian was all hurt feelings of course, but mostly he didn't believe that the Inquisitor would actually make him leave. Until Maxwell threatened with the Rite of Tranquility."

I gasp in horror.

"He didn't," I choke out. "He couldn't..."

"Elphie, calm down," Bull stands, to envelope me in a hug, as I shake with great sobs. "He is fine. Dorian is fine. He left. Went back to Tevinter. He's going to be okay."

"You don't understand..." I gasp, but I can't seem to draw enough air to speak. And how could I even explain to Bull with words the utter horror of what Tranquility is to a mage? Or what dearest Papa Pavus and his A+ parenting almost did to Dorian. "He's all alone now..."

No, he might have Maevaris. I will have to ask Varric, if he can contact her. I hope...

Bull draws me to the bed and he sits with me until I calm down. Except I never do though, I just cry myself to sleep.

 

***

 

It's the second morning I find myself in Bull's bed without anything fun happening the previous night. At least this time we're both fully clothed. I sneak out before he wakes, though I don't kid myself that he's not only pretending to still be asleep.

I find Varric and ask for a small favor of making sure that a letter gets to our Sparkler without being intercepted by anyone. Especially the Nightingale. My wording is still cautious.

 

Dear Sparkler,

I cannot say much in here, as I do not know who might read my letter, but I want you to know, that I'll always consider you my friend. I'm sorry you were forced to leave without a goodbye, but I'm glad to hear, you are safe.

I can only offer a few words of advice, I cannot even know if they'll still be true in the future that we wrought.

Be true to yourself. Do not let anybody force you to be someone you're not. You are exactly what the Imperium needs. But also try to make up with your father. He needs protection too. He's not the best parent, but he tries and his actions will irrevocably attract the wrong kind of attention from his peers.

I know you have a friend who's distantly related to our Storyteller friend. She's going to be a great ally in your work. Send my best regards to her. Even if we've never met, I'm a great admirer.

Finally, if time and fate allows, see you in a couple of years or so. If fate is kind, we'll meet sooner. If fate is even kinder, we'll never meet again and you'll only hear of my death. Do not worry, it is inevitable. I just hope, I'll leave behind a better Thedas, having completed my task.

With all my love,

The Elfy Elf

 


	17. Halamshiral: Going Once

The Winter Palace is breathtakingly beautiful.

It shocks me, how different it looks than my memories of it from Trespasser. Yet it looks exactly the same. Then I realize, that it's only game graphics versus reality and I giggle, slightly hysterically. Because I forgot. Because I keep forgetting. Even among all the things going well and going wrong, I keep forgetting that it's all real now.

Not just a dream, not a nightmare. Not a hallucination, not a daydream. Not fucking fanfiction.

"Elpheba," Max gently squeezes my arm where it's laced through his. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," I answer, still chuckling. "Yes, Inquisitor. Everything is perfectly fine."

I only have to keep up the spell all night, after all. I'm only responsible for the wellbeing of those who trust in my capabilities, with their lives. Everything's _peachy_.

There isn't much to do, before we are ushered in and presented. We're fashionably late, the perfect timing of which, is coordinated by Madame de Fer. We're all impeccably dressed. (Those of us who are to be presented, at least.) No sign of the horrible uniforms.

Sera and Solas are already inside, mingled with the servants, hiding in plain sight. Bull is playing bodyguard in all his intimidating qunari glory. I catch hushed comments, small gasps and whispering gossips of the ‘oxman’ guarding the Inquisitor and his elven mistress.

I can't even be bothered by their assumptions. I knew this was a bad idea, but I was too afraid of being left behind if I spoke up. So I hold my head up high and plaster the perfect smile on my face. My eyes narrowing in disgust and contempt, hidden behind the exquisite half-mask of silverite and black lace, matching my dark hair and brilliant dress.

We're all wearing masks in a matching design, although everyone's is tailored in colour to match their dress. Josie is exquisite in rich gold and navy blue. Cassandra is wearing something that would be called a pant suit in my old world, mostly black, with pale purple, lyrium-blue accents. Cullen is in gold and red, never before looking more like the Lion of Honnleath.

Leliana is also in pants, but in a blouse and jacket, that somehow manages to hide a lot of weapons and make her clothes look like a dress at the same time. Her satin shoes with silverite buckles, are envied by all. Blackwall is wearing the Grey Warden colours of silver and a deeper blue, his suit resembling the warden uniform in its design. Vivienne is wearing silver and blue too, her usual shades, redone in a much grander style. Her dress is a different style from Josie's, form-hugging, while not restraining her movements.

Bull is not wearing a mask, he is dressed to intimidate. In his full armor. I grinned at first, when I saw him dressed and ready to leave for the party. Now, surrounded by the gossiping hoards of the Orlesian nobility, I see the effect Max was aiming for in its full glory. Even though, Max is the guest of honor, nobody is paying him as much attention as they should.

Max is also unmasked. All the more to be transparent and yet unassuming. It's just perfect. They'll all remember him as being without the disguise, so if they run into him in the corridors, with a mask on, they won't realize it's him. He's wearing black, softly shining satin embroidered with an ever darker shade.

I'm his complementing half. I feel like I'm wearing pure moonlight. I was given a silver satin dress, embroidered much the same way as Max's clothes. The fine details only visible up close, or if the soft candlelight hits my dress just right. The material is weightless and clings to my curves. It makes me self-conscious, and I feel naked it's so lightweight. Thin straps on my shoulders, left bare of my hair, which is piled high in an elaborately messed bun. A deep drop to reveal cleavage in the front, and a great expanse of pale skin on my back. The bottom edge of the dress pools on the floor behind me. I had to learn to dance in it, so I wouldn't step on the hem with the high-heeled silver colour sandals. At least Thedas doesn't have a concept of stiletto heels, so I'm spared the humiliation of not being able to walk.

The announcements are much the same as I remember from the game. I am announced next to last, as ‘Lady Elpheba of Skyhold, Ambassador of the Dalish, Protector and Mistress of the Inquisitor’, and handed off for Bull to guard as the Inquisitor takes his turn at greeting Empress Celine.

I shudder at all the lies Vive and Max came up for that. Or was it the Orlesian gossip mill? I knew that, at least in the game, Sera made up her on introduction...

"How are you holding up?" the Iron Bull asks me in a whisper, once we're off of the main floor.

"As can be expected," I whisper back, my fake smile still in place. "I'm holding up the Spell, while trying not to lose focus of my surroundings. It could be worse."

"I'm here to protect you," Bull reassures me. "You know Max would never let anything happen to you, if he could help it."

"If there's something you should've already realized with all that famed ‘Ben-Hassrath training’, it's that Max can do nothing about most of the shit currently happening in Thedas." I say bitterly. "It wasn't a complete accident that an ancient Elvhen god sent me to help out."

"Oh, so an Ancient Elvhen god sent you?" He asks and grins like the cat, who got the cream.

"Write _that_ in your reports to Par Vollen," I sneer.

"Hey, you don't have to take your frustration out on me," he holds up both hands in defence. "Although, I guess, it's better on me than on the Inquisitor."

I swallow hard and take a glass of what I'm guessing is champagne from the tray of a passing servant. It is gold coloured and sparkling. I don't drink it though, just lift it to my lips and tip the glass enough that the liquid almost touches my lips but not quite.

I sigh.

"I'm sorry, Bull," I say, balling my free hand in a fist, so I can stop myself from touching him. Ever since Adamant, or rather, the aftermath of Adamant, I can barely stay away from him. It's like my whole body is telling me, that we should be together. That he's the One I'm here to protect.

Which is ridiculous, of course, because, unless I messed up this world by being here more than I thought, the Iron Bull needs no protecting.

"Elphie," he whispers so softly, my skin tingles, as if my chosen name on his lips, has turned into a physical caress. I chuckle at the thought.

"Look at us," I smile genuinely, perhaps for the first time that night. "Calling each other by names that we've chosen ourselves, yet which are not our true names." My mirth turns dark and bitter.

Bull's smile falters at my words. He takes a breath to say something else, but Max steps up to us and with a flourish, asks me for a dance.

"May I?"

"Of course, my Inquisitor," I say, and curtsy before I take his proffered hand, passing my glass to a startled Bull. "Be a darling and hold this for me please."

 

Channelling my inner diva for the Game is easier than I thought. I dance with Max, I dance with random curious nobles. I'm refined and lady-like, and the whispers grow more impressed by the sophistication of the Inquisitor's elven mistress. Let them gossip, I’m playing a part tonight. I’m the main distraction, I can’t be shy.

I keep my ears open, I watch every movement and I pull the mask of my role tight around myself. Until my head is throbbing with each heartbeat, until I feel like I'm suffocating among all the pleasantries.

Until I have to get away from the fray and catch my breath in a quiet corner of the garden.

"Elphie."

My body tightens in anticipation, but it's only Solas, offering me a tray of biscuits and a cup of gently steaming tea.

"You need to calm down," he whispers, tentatively passing a glowing hand over my head. The headache dissipates, but the tightness in my body from the stress of the Spell does not.

"I don't think I can," I tell Solas before taking a careful sip of the tea. Rosehip. If it had been camomile, I would've killed Solas. But it's perfect and I actually start feeling a bit calmer.

"You don't have to worry about anything," Solas says. "We'll take care of the assassin, but you have to stay in your role. Don't overdo it."

"Do you even know who the assassin is?" I ask, my bitterness palpable. Solas starts to shake his head when I continue. "Because I do. But I can't say anything, because I already made a mess of things. I tried to fight destiny and made everything worse. I..." I swallow hard, blinking hard, to hold back the tears threatening. Now is so not the time.

"Elphie, you cannot possibly still blame yourself for what happened in the Exhalted Plains..." Solas whispers harshly. "It wasn't your fault. If anything, you tried to help."

"And what good did it do? Nothing! Fucking NOTHING!" I scream at him and half throw, half drop my teacup in frustration. It's my greatest weakness. It's what made me take Flemeth's offer so readily. I HATE being helpless.

_Helpless, useless, hopeless_. It's all my fault.

I bury my face in my hands to stifle a sob. This is NOT the TIME!

"Solas, you'd better leave," I hear the Iron Bull's voice. There's a few moments of tense silence, only broken by my hiccupping breath, then Solas' retreating footsteps.

I jerk away when Bull tries to lay a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Elphie..."

"I don't need your pity!" I whisper-shout at him, conscious that this little, hidden corner of the garden does not shield us from pricked ears.

"I do not pity you, Elpheba," Bull says calmly. "If anything, I admire your strength. You give so much of yourself, yet never expect anything in return. But it's also painful to watch, how you wear yourself thin for the good of the many."

"You sound like the Inquisitor," I huff a bitter laugh. "Would you like to ban me from using my power too?"

There's only silence in answer. So I have to look up.

Bull looks horrified. I grin.

"What? He didn't tell you? Of course not," I take a deep breath, before I lose my rational thoughts completely. "I'm his greatest _asset_. He will not let me use my powers without supervision. Because I might ‘ _wear myself too thin’_." I throw back Bull's words back at him, and he looks like he's been physically struck.

"Do you know what it feels like?" I ask, my gaze going hazy as I let the Spell take a stronger hold. "It's like... I'm everyone and no one. It's not like I'm truly myself, even when the Protection spell is not going, but when it is... I can feel the life of each and every one of the people I'm protecting.

"I can feel their heartbeats like my own. I can feel their struggle, I can feel their deaths. I can feel each of their wounds, as if they are carved into my own skin. And then I take it all away and give back life. And yes, it wears me thin. It's easier every time, but it takes a greater toll. I am not meant to survive, Bull."

"Elphie, you can't mean that," Bull's voice is harsh in the darkness.

"It doesn't matter whether or not I mean it. It's a fact. I have this power, I have this task. Once it's complete, my life is over here." I shrug matter-of-factly. "I do not belong here anyway. This world won't mourn my loss." I don't say anything about my supposed boon. Not when I don't even remember the person I'm supposed to be doing all this for.

"Solas would mourn you," Bull says quietly. "Krem would mourn you. The 'Vint would mourn you. Even the Inquisitor would mourn you." I just chuckle at the notion that I'll be missed by anyone. Until Bull adds even quieter, "I would mourn you."

I look up at him and our eyes meet in the darkness.  Glittering elven eyes finding his gaze with unerringly sharp vision. The air around us seems to freeze. Time seems to stop.

 

_I would mourn you. You are not a tool, not an object, you are a person. I would grieve and I would mourn you. And in another life, I would save you. No matter the cost, I'd fight for your life. I'd fight for a chance for you to live happily._

 

There's a tug on the protection Spell, and it pulls me from the almost-memory. It's already fading, but it leaves me off balance.

A harder pull on the Spell and I reach out to Bull, to steady myself. He holds me by the arm, as I lose focus on my surroundings.

"Oh, it's _her_..." I mumble. My connection with the Spell is stronger. I can almost make out what's happening..., Morrigan meeting the Inquisitor for the first time. Her familiar power echoes through the Spell and when she leaves, I blink, as my vision clears.

Bull is standing still in front of me, an inscrutable expression on his face.

The first bell tolls.

"We should return to the ballroom," I say quietly and the Iron Bull nods, before taking my hand and pulling it through the crook of his arm. I follow his lead silently.


	18. Halamshiral: Going Twice

Re-entering the ballroom just after the second bell, there's a wave of approving murmurs through the guests. Brilliant, I manage to be fashionably late, even without trying. I catch the eyes of Vivienne, and she nods to me with a small smile. I feel my dread intensifying.

I'm swept away again, by an impressively brave noble, and when I finally catch sight of the Inquisitor, he is talking with Leliana. He must've been successful so far. They are talking in the light manner of just a pleasant conversation, but I know that secrets are passed on and clues are discussed.

Then Leliana points towards me and I catch the gaze of the Inquisitor. He strides over with purpose and I am asked away from my current dance partner.

"I hear, you're quite the talk of the ball," Max murmurs into my ear, holding me closer than proper.

"I hear you've met the Empress' Arcane Advisor," I whisper back.

"You know Morrigan?" He asks.

I smile.

"Never met her in my life," then my smile falters. "But I must admit to knowing more about her than is wise..."

Max regards me with keen eyes as we move through the steps of the dance. A twirl takes me away from him, to arm’s length, before I'm reeled back in again, his calloused fingers finding the soft skin of my back. I shiver.

"It's the spell, isn't it?" Max asks.

"Yes." And no. But I don't want him to know Morrigan's connection with Flemeth. Not yet. He'll find out soon enough.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you cast it..." Max's grip tightens on my hand. The song winds down.

"You should go," I whisper, curtsying at the end of the song.

"I should," Max says, bowing in answer, and placing a perfect kiss on my hand. Then he's gone. I barely register the small applause we garnered.

 

Time is ticking away, like sand trickling through an hourglass.

I retreat again from the dance floor and happen upon Josephine with her sister.

"Ah, Lady Elpheba, let me introduce my..."

I smile and I listen, but I can't quite hear their words. My nose is filled with the scent of blood. Even knowing it's not my own senses picking up on it, I worry and I'm distracted. Josie picks up on it and excuses us from her sister.

I only realize that we left the ballroom, when I am presented with a glass of strong liquor. I'm automatically raising the glass to my lips, but the strong scent of alcohol brings me back to myself. I wince.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Look, Elfy's back," Sera drawls, and I look up to see her in the same outfit as all the other elven servants. "Scribbles thought ya weren't quite here. Don't worry us too much, ya hear." Sera waggles her finger playfully at me. "Now drink up. It's safe, I checked," she says before waltzing off to melt back into the background with the other servants.

"Take care of the little people," I shout after her, only half as loud as I want to. _Take care of them_ , I think, _because I can’t, and Max might not_.

"Are you feeling better, Lady Elpheba," Josie asks. I shake my head.

"No, but this might help," I motion to the glass of ember liquid before I down the contents in one swing. It burns, but the harsh taste grounds me. It makes my senses concentrate on the here and now. "Maker's breath, it's strong," I wheeze.

Josie gives me a worried look, which I answer with a thumbs-up.

"You can return to the Ballroom, Lady Montilyet. I'll take it from here," Bull says, appearing behind Josephine, out of nowhere. The ambassador nods gratefully to Bull, before taking my hand for a short squeeze and leaving.

"It's you again," I grumble at Bull.

"And you are drinking already," Bull winks. I show him my teeth.

I start to stand, (when did I sit down?) when I feel the first sharp tug on the Protection Spell. I sit abruptly as my senses are torn from me. I can feel the power Cassandra draws from the Fade, I can hear Max's daggers whistle through the air, I feel the cold breeze of Vivienne's ice spells, I can smell the blood that is spilt by Blackwall's sword.

"They're fighting..." I say faintly. I know Bull is still there, but I can no longer see him. I'm so afraid, blinded by my own power, helpless. Hopeless.

_Useless._

**_NO!_ **

I'm covering my ears with my hands, clawing at my head as the whispers of voices intensify. _This is not me, this is not where I belong. I'm just making everything worse. I'm..._

"Elphie."

A name. So simple. So _wrong_.

So perfect, when it falls from those lips.

I blink my gaze clear as I focus on Bull. He has me by the wrists, holding my hands hostage, so I cannot hurt myself. I'm having trouble staying focused, but Bull's gaze is grounding. His touch stills the magic in me. His presence helps.

I'm breathing in great gasps, like a drowning man who reached the shore. I lick my lips and I taste salt. I've been shedding tears...

"I'm so scared, Bull," I whisper, terrified. Words can't express the utter helplessness you feel, when your whole being is out of your control. "I don't think I can do this..."

"How can I help?" Bull asks. "Should I find Solas? Maybe he..."

"NO!!" I shriek when I feel Bull pulling away. I grip his fingers like he's my lifeline. Sometimes I think he might be. "Don't leave me! Please don’t leave me…" I sob.

He pauses, then nods and sits beside me on the bench.

"It's all right, El," he says as he draws me into his arms. "I won't leave you."

I shiver. I'm so cold. I shouldn't be falling apart like this. I should be stronger. I should be taking this all in stride.

I cling to Bull with eyes shut tight, so I won't be torn apart by my senses pulling me both ways.

 

_The price will be..._

 

My eyes open wide, and I still completely. A feeling of pure hate and disgust filters through the bond of the Spell. I need to act.

The bell tolls only a moment later.

I stand, pulling away from Bull, starting to walk back to the Ballroom. Bull stands with me, pulling me up short, before I can take more than a couple of steps.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

"Back to the Ballroom. I have to talk to the Inquisitor. Before it's too late," I say and free my hand, hurrying back to the party as fast as etiquette allows.

 

The Inquisitor is already on the dance floor with Duchess Florianne. His party are nowhere to be found, except for Lady Vivienne, who gives me a strange look. A hand comes down on my shoulder and my legs steady. I didn't realize I was shaking.

"You should freshen up," Bull murmurs, handing me a handkerchief. I realize that my tears have smeared my carefully applied make-up. I must look a mess. But I have to talk to Max before he leaves for the last round.

Three times the bells will toll.

I had a bad feeling about tonight, but that brief exchange of emotion I felt through the Spell made me fill with dread. I could do this. I could stop the worst from happening... I knew I could. I had been sent here to do so.

It's Leliana, who helps, approaching us before anyone else notices my state of dishevelment. She spirits me away into a quiet alcove and hands me a small pouch, which contains kohl, lipstain and a small handmirror.

"Thank you, Leli," I whisper before I get to fix my face. I'm not very good with make-up, but I'm good enough to make myself presentable again.

"Do not thank me," Leliana says, her voice hard. "I'm just looking out for the Inquisitor's interests. I can't let you jeopardize the mission."

"Did he speak with you?" I ask.

"Yes," she says carefully.

"And what is he planning?" I ask as I hand her back the pouch.

"That is none of your business," she says coolly. "Your sole task tonight is to keep the Inquisitor safe. Do not overstep your bounds," she says before striding away.

I stare after her stunned, before shaking my head and steeling myself. I can't let her intimidate me. They don't dictate my purpose.

_Does Flemeth?_

I shiver at the thought, but I have something to do now. I can think about the realities of my situation later.

Except, the Inquisitor is already gone. So is Florianne. I find myself standing still in the lively Ballroom, Bull at my back, completely lost at what to do.

I have to find Max.

 

I exit the Ballroom into the Vestibule, and look around frantically. Where would he have gone? What was the third task? Oh, the Royal Wing!

It’s harder to navigate the palace without maps, from memory alone, when even memory is unreliable in the face of reality. Everything is more, and as I try to find my way, I have to stay inconspicuous as well as fast. Longer corridors, greater chambers, and finally, a familiar sound.

The sound of a scuffle and a barely muffled scream.

I managed to lose the Iron Bull in the crowd milling about in the Vestibule, and throwing the huge doors to Florianne's old room open, I regret it for a moment. But a moment is all I have, before the elven servant girl will be killed by the Harlequin.

So, instead of regretting or over-thinking it, I move. I move from memory, rushing the assassin, taking her by surprise enough, that I manage to pull of the ' _This. Is. SPARTAAA!!!_ ' move, and since she's close enough to the open window, I send her tumbling to her death.

After I read about the likeness of the  two scenes online, I could never see it in the game again, without bursting out laughing. Or shouting the warcry along to the cutscene. Doing it in reality, I barely keep my balance. I feel my blood turn to ice when I hear the Harlequin’s body land.

_Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._

But I have to, to make sure. Just to be safe.

There's already blood pooling around the broken body.

I fight the swell of nausea. No time, I still need to find the Inquisitor.

"Are you all right?" I turn to the frightened servant.

"Ye-yes. Thank you," she stammers, getting back on her feet from where she stumbled. "You saved my life."

"It happens sometimes..."

"No one's supposed to be here... Briala said..." she continued.

"I know... She's..." What could I do for her...? "Go to the Ballroom. Find Commander Cullen. Tell him, Elpheba sent you. Your knowledge about Briala's history makes you a target. He'll keep you safe."

"The Inquisition would protect me?" She asks doubtfully.

"I sure do hope so, but you don't really have much of an alternative at the moment," I answer, trying for a reassuring smile that feels strained on my lips.

"Thank you, milady," she bows shallowly, before leaving without a second glance.

I exit the room too, turning the opposite direction. Only to run into Bull. Again.

"Elpheba," his voice is hard, accusing, as he grabs me by the wrist. "You can't just disappear like that."

"Let me go, I need to find him, I need to..." I protest, trying to wiggle out of Bull's grip.

"No, we are to return to the Ballroom and wait for the Inquisitor there. Come..."

**_NO!_ **

I jerk my arm harder, almost pulling it out of its socket. Then a flash of silver takes over my vision. It’s  tinged with green and I feel my body crumbling to the floor.

 

 

_An eluvian, the words to activate it spoken carefully, the shine of it bright._

**_At the same time, a rift in the courtyard, shining bright green in the night, painting everything Fade-coloured._ **

_The eluvian opens, hums with power before it closes again. Its new key resides with the ancient elven figure, fast leaving the scene._

**_The rift bursts open, spewing demons. Max fights them off with ease, annoyance coming off of him in waves._ **

 

As soon as the last demon falls, my senses return to me. The Iron Bull is holding me in his arms, and we had moved. He's talking to a worried Solas when I blink my eyes and focus my gaze.

"What happened?" I ask still a bit lightheaded.

"You collapsed," Bull says gently. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, put me down," I try to slap at his arm ineffectively.

He lowers me lowly, until my feet touch the ground, but doesn't release his hold on me until he's sure I can stand of my own power.

"Elpheba," Solas starts, worry soaked into each syllable. "What happened? Your power is fluctuating greatly, and I cannot help you until the Spell is working."

"I'm fine," I reiterate. First things first. "Where is Maxwell?"

Solas studies me for a little longer before he gives in and motion toward the door to the Ballroom.

"The Empress' speech is about to begin. He must be back by now."

_Oh no..._

I hurry through the doors, without waiting for them to follow.


	19. Halamshiral: Gone

I can't pinpoint when I feel certain that my new _life_ is falling apart.

Is it when I re-enter the Ballroom for the third time and see Max talking to Cullen? See him nod with a determined look before he disappears into the crowds.

Or is it when I watch Empress Celine prepare to make her speech? Watch her as she speaks of peace and working together. Almost believable, until Florianne sidles up behind her and instead of taking over for the speech, she takes out a knife (or is it a dagger? I still can't always tell which is which) and slides it between the Empress' ribs. It's a quieter scene than in the game. Just a quick movement, a soft sigh, and Celine is crumbling onto the floor to lay dead in a pool of her own blood.

Then the quiet breaks, screams fill the air, and Maxwell is off after the fleeing Duchess.

I'm missing time, I know. But my gaze is stuck on the Empress' still form.

_Never again, never again, never again._

I'm not sure if I'm chanting the words aloud, or if they're just an echo in my head.

Leliana was right. I have nothing to do with the Inquisitor's decisions. I have no influence over him.

He comes back eventually. His black frock hides the bloodstains perfectly. But I can see them, softly shining patches over his arms and torso. Not his. Florianne's.

The 'mess' is cleaned up, agreements are hammered out. I'm ushered aside with the rest of the nobles, quietly guarded by a grim Bull. Then Gaspard reappears with Maxwell lurking behind him. There's a new speech, a promise of support for the Inquisition, and the evening ends.

At least the publicly exciting part of it anyway.

 

I try to pull myself together on one of the empty balconies. It's quiet here and I managed to ditch the Iron Bull, so I'm alone. 'Ditch' might not be the best word for it, but I needed to think and his proximity still confuses me more than it helps. The Spell still holds. I don't dare to let it unravel until we're out of the Winter Palace safely.

A soft movement alerts me to a visitor, and for a moment I think it's Bull, having decided to join me on the balcony after all. But when I turn, it's Briala I find carefully approaching.

"Ambassador, what do I owe the..." I start but I'm cut off midsentence.

"Not anymore," she says, her voice cold. "I am relieved of my ambassadorial duties. Apparently, I’m lucky to have been left alive. I suppose I shouldn't have counted on the Inquisitor being favourable toward the elves. Not even with an elven mistress at his side."

"We're not..."

"But I do wonder if killing his _whore_ would hurt him as much as he'd hurt me by letting Celine die..."

She moves before her words register, and I stagger against the railing under her attack. Her dagger is sharp and sleek and parts my flesh easily and almost without pain as it's embedded in my chest.

I taste blood, briefly.

Our eyes meet and I smile.

Briala stumbles back, and there's something akin to fear in her eyes.

I have to feel for the hilt of the dagger and it hurts a lot more coming out than it did going in. But when it's free, the Spell surges and my wound heals without a trace. I rub at my chest and my hand comes away clean. I am the center of the magic, it seems it reacts most powerfully on me.

"What... are you...?" Briala whispers, terrified.

It feels surprisingly good to be the one, for _once_ , that somebody's afraid of.

"Just a lost little girl..." I say not unkindly. I weigh the dagger in my hand. It's covered in my blood, but that's the only sign remaining that it was used at all.

Briala takes another step away.

"You know," I start, and have to tamp down the urge to stalk her. It's the adrenaline, I know, but it would feel so _good_ to finally take revenge on all the people who keep ruining my day, my life. I'm not thinking clearly. I just want to _hunt_. "I'm _so_ fed up, that people keep thinking that I'm just an ornamental piece. The Orlesians? Sure, who cares. Not that being called the Inquisitor's knife-eared bitch is in anyway complimentary, but it's a good disguise."

I take one step closer to Briala. She's frozen under my gaze.

"Leliana thinks I'm a useful tool. Maxwell wants me in a glass cage, 'to keep me safe', like a captured songbird. I know Bull means well, but shadowing me all night, even under orders, when I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself... under these circumstances..." I almost say 'while the Spell is active', but I catch myself in time.

I've backed Briala into a corner and I grin a wicked grin at her expression. I can still taste the copper on my tongue, I wonder if my smile is as bloody. I lay the edge of her dagger against her throat, gently.

"So, if you had your little fun of playing at getting _revenge_ where you’ll find none," I whisper. " _Leave_."

I flick the dagger downwards with such power, that it sticks in the marble floor, singing as the blade resonates from the force. Briala slips out from the corner and flees.

I sigh tiredly and lay my forehead against the cool wall. My mask presses against my face uncomfortably, and I tear it off, flinging it away in frustration. It bounces off of the doorframe of the balcony and clatters to the floor.

I lean my back against the wall and slide down into a sobbing heap.

With the adrenaline gone, I feel myself starting to shake. Everything comes back into sharp relief. My chest hurts from the phantom pain of the dagger. Every time I close my eyes, I see Celine's empty, lifeless gaze, staring at me blindly and accusing.

_You could've stopped this. You **should've** stopped this._

"Elpheba!"

Ah, it's Bull again. I'm too tired to look up or to put on a brave face anymore. Not that I've been managing it too well during the evening.

"What happened? I saw Briala..." he trails off. Probably at the sight of the bloodied dagger stuck in the floor next to me.

I sigh again and lean my head back so I can look up at him through wet eyelashes.

"I’m fine," I say slowly. "But I'm really fed up with the taste of blood..."

He looks confused for a moment. Then his eye snags on the dagger and he puts two and two together and it's all fiery rage from there. Tempered fiery rage, but still, I appreciate the thought.

"Shit..." he growls and he's crouching next to me the next second.

"I'm fine... really," I grumble before he can touch me. I don't think I can handle being touched right now. Not by him. It's too intimate, too real. And even with everything a bit too sharp around me, I'm still floating in a bit of denial that this has all actually happened.

That I got stabbed in the heart and the worst of it’s been that I can still have the phantom taste of blood in my mouth.

The Iron Bull hesitates, regards me with that too sharp gaze. Ben-Hassrath training my ass, he's always been too sharp. I remember his childhood name. _Ashkaari_ , 'one who seeks', 'one who thinks'. And he's doing it know, assessing me with his one good eye and finding answers unspoken.

Eventually, he sits beside me and we remain in a comfortable silence. Alone, together.

I listen to the last dregs of a waltz coming from the Ballroom, and wish that the night could've ended with a dance. The chance for the only dance I've been looking for, however, is long gone. But this is good too.

Yes, this is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to get my courage back to write for this.


End file.
